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silencesscreams · 10 months

Text

i can see you

james potter x best friends sister!reader (smut)

summary: james develops a strange feeling for sirius’ sister (reader) when she comes to london once her job required her to move. he first off thought she was a shitty person, an awful one with an awfully pretty face. so when sirius offers for her to stay in their loft until she finds an apartment, he decides he’s going to make her want to get out of there as fast as possible, until he wants her to stay more than anything in this whole world.

a/n: omg im so sorry this took so long, i tried my best w this one. also, english isn’t my first language so sorry for any mistakes. inspired by i can see you - taylor swift

warnings: mdni. smut with plot, afab!reader, use of she/her pronouns in reference to reader, use of y/n (I AM SORRY), afab!reader, being shorter than james, muggle & modern day!au, chef!peter, ships included (dorlene, marylily, wolfstar), swearing, cuddling, mentions of alcohol and drinking, a lot of physical touch, kind of public??, kissing, praise, v soft dom!james, fingering, oral (m receiving), light choking, size kink??, penetration, unprotected (don’t do this please), overstimulation

for the past two years, you started to have weekly calls with your brother, to update him on your life and know what’s happening on his.

you got transferred to london because of your job, you couldn’t find any apartments online and you were supposed to move the other week, being really desperate you told him about it, hoping he knew a real estate agent or something like that, but you were incredibly caught by surprise with his answer.

“thats such nonsense, you should just stay in my empty room until you find another place.” sirius said, his phone on speaker as he made a sandwich in the kitchen. james eyed him with a confused look on his face, but sirius decided to ignore it.

“really?” you ask, hopeful, you really could take a break from looking for apartments.

“of course. i mean, remus has practically moved into my room, so we just need to take some stuff of his out, but yeah, its no big deal.” james couldn’t help but look at him like he was crazy, remus’ room was right next to his, hell, remus’ room had a bathroom adjoined to his. james was starting to feel faint.

as soon as sirius got off the phone with you, he started blabbing.

“what the fuck, sirius?!” james said loudly, sirius sighed, putting his sandwich harshly on the plate.

“what now? i’m really just trying to eat here”

“your sister? really?” he looked like he was about to faint.

“she’ll pitch in on the rent, don’t worry about that” your brother tried to get him calm.

“oh please, i dont care about that! you know how i feel about sharing spaces” he was getting stressed, he couldn’t help it. “and you know how i feel about your family, i have been telling you to be more careful these past years but you don’t listen at all!”

it really had to be remus’s room? couldn’t peter just switch rooms and lend her his instead?

“she’s not like my parents, and neither is regulus, they didn’t do anything” sirius paused, “do your best friend a favor, will you?” and he knew he was going to.

“she’s not messy or nosy or anything like that, right?” james asked, giving into it fully.

“please, shes a cleaning freak, she’s worse than my mother” he paused. “that’s an exaggeration but she’s not messy at all, i swear. you wont even notice she’s around.” james doubted that, but he knew how much sirius missed his siblings, and he knew how fond sirius was of you.

james swore to himself he was going to get you to leave either way, he didn’t want you there and he didn’t care if he had to pay more rent because of it. he didn’t like you, he never did. even in school, before the whole sirius moving out thing, he felt weird around you. and he remembered that feeling very well, even if it was many years before, he didn’t feel like he could forget.

your moving truck arrived at the building a few hours before you, but when you got there, sirius had already arranged your furniture, which did make you a bit emotional. he had even bought a toothbrush, carefully arranging it in the right side of the cabinet, the side that pointed towards the door of the bathroom that led to your room.

the boys came to pick you up at the train station, you recognized them from sirius’ social media. they were everywhere.

you were extremely confused on why all of them had come and pick you up, you were hoping to see your brother standing awkwardly, instead he was there with all of his roommates. you felt like you were a teenage girl again, trying to talk to your brother during lunch, but his friends were always around.

you recognized remus from the photos he sent you, and peter was always on the background of your calls with him baking something.

and then there was james.

james potter. you didn’t know how to feel about him anymore. when your brother first introduced you, you found him attractive, but then you hated him.

when your brother ran away to his home you couldn’t help but hate him.

sure, your house wasn’t the best place in the world, but he took away your older brother, how were you supposed to feel?

as time passed you started to tolerate his presence. now you really don’t care about him, but he sure looked better than he usually did many years before.

you felt like you could kill him.

after living with james for a month you found him obnoxious, rude, annoying and a few other things you were too lazy to mention.

but the thing you hated the most was how invasive he could be.

you barged into his room, he was laying there, crumbs all over his red shirt.

"you should learn how to knock" he rolled his eyes when he said it, your brows furrowed.

"you ate my brownies." you had baked a few because it was bring your kid to work day and you were in charge of the snacks.

“they were really good, i thought peter made them” james paused. “he runs a restaurant downtown, you know, he’s always baking and-“

“i’m gonna have to make a whole new batch. you ate like ten of them.” you were about to get a really bad headache depending on his answer.

“i told you, they were really good.”

if you were in a cartoon you would’ve turned red and there would be smoke coming out of your nostrils and your ears. you had no comment.

you hated when he did that, just compliment you so you couldn’t really hate him that much anymore.

he used your shampoo, but it smelled really nice.

he ate your leftovers, but you really know how to order chinese food.

he even wore one of your biggest shirts you bought when you were in college because you were too lazy to buy pajamas and suddenly that shirt was really nice, because, sure, james potter actually listened to avril lavigne.

he shrunk one of your favorite sundresses, you almost cried that day and he never even apologized.

the list went on and on, and somehow, every compliment of his sounded like he was taunting you, making fun of you right in front of your face and all you could ever do was thank him.

maybe that’s just how you were, polite no matter what. but you sure didn’t want to be polite to james that day.

“no, you don’t get to do that” you felt like you were being crazy.

“what do you mean?” he chuckled. he so did not chuckle.

“you don’t get to compliment me! that doesn’t bring my brownies back!” the word brownie sure sounded stupid in that moment.

“i’ll bake more for you, but they’ll suck, you know that” he actually sat on the bed to argue, how kind of him.

“the kids will probably die if they eat your brownies.”

“you’re feeding children? where do you even work?” he looked so confused and you kept getting angrier.

“do i really look like the kind of person who would eat a hundred billion thousand brownies? god, james, why can’t you just not touch my shit?”

“that’s not even a real number and there were a lot of them! i thought it wouldn’t make a difference!”

“it wouldn’t, if you had eaten one or two, but you ate half of them!”

“oh please, lets put it to a maximum of 25%, alright?” you felt like you were going absolutely insane. he was probably going to get you in a mental hospital and you’d be walking around, looking half dead, murmuring ‘brownies brownies brownies, i want my brownies back’.

you decided to just give up, slamming the door the hardest you could while heading out.

as halloween came around, the bickering with james stopped, you didn’t quite know if it was because of the season or you just got used to each other, but you didn’t mind it much. he could be very exhausting when upset, and you were sure you could too.

you loved fall, maybe it was that you were in a great mood. pumpkin flavored stuff, candles and everything else included.

on the day before halloween, you woke up early, you had to go apartment hunting and once you got back you would try and help peter make deserts. even though your ghost shaped cookies look like very sick jellyfish, you wanted to help. it was the most you could do, you weren’t paying rent, sirius wouldn’t let you. and they were going to throw a party on the next day so you wanted to help them get everything settled.

when you got home you were so incredibly tired, you had spent all day out and it was already 9pm. you had to walk so much you felt like you were your feet would fall off because they were used more on that day than they were your entire life. you were more upset you didn’t get to help with the food though, the pain didn’t really matter that much compared to that.

you just wanted to lay on your bed, put your feet up and-

giggles.

there were giggles coming from your room.

and then you remembered it, the neighbors, a few girls that went to the same school as you and were very good friends with your brother were staying over. a big slumber party of some sort, you and james were sleeping in the living room, because, of course, the four girls formed two couples and they would sleep together separately. no actual bed for you tonight! you really liked them though, so you couldn’t complain.

you knocked on the door to your own room and marlene opened it, cheeks flushed, and you could see dorcas on your bed, doing something on her phone.

“hi, lene” you decided to call her that because sirius called her that, it was cute. “sorry for bothering you both, i just wanted to get my pillow, my blanket and change real quick”

“oh sure, come in” she opened the door and you went straight for the drawer under the bed, grabbing a light green heavy one, you usually used that on winter but it was a cold night and you didn’t really want to bother them by taking your usual one from off the bed.

you never changed clothes so fast, tossing them in the laundry bin along with a shit ton of james’ shirts that were on his side of the sink.

“thank you, have a nice night”

you sighed while going to the living room, to find james sitting on the armchair, shirtless and wearing sweatpants, drinking a beer and watching that 70s show (again). you decided to ignore how good he looked and just get some rest because you really didn’t want go think about james in that moment, or ever as a matter of fact.

you lay down on the couch and throw the blanket over your head.

“you know what bums me out about this show?” james says abruptly, like you would really like to know. you grunt, waiting for his answer. “they really didn’t know when to stop it, its only good until what? season-“

“james, im really tired, i just wanna get some rest, please” you get out from under the covers to say that, so he ignores it fully.

“how did apartment hunting go?” he asks, pausing the episode and asking alexa to turn on some playlist with songs a sad dad would listen to.

“shitty, theres not one good place up for rent in this city, its actually sick”

“yeah, thats tough” he pauses for a brief moment “come here” he said, patting his knee. was he asking you to sit on his lap? was he going fucking crazy?

“i’m sorry, what?” you were so confused, since when was he like that to you?

“get up, sit here with me a little.” were you dreaming? was this one of those weird wet dreams you had in high school?

“james, i’m really tired, my back hurts and i really want to lay-“

“i’ll give you a massage, it’s whatever” he answered, a sad puppy look on his face.

you gave in. you walked over to him and sat on the arm of the chair, but he pulled you onto his lap.

“i need to be close to you, if i’m not it’s really awkward and uncomfortable.” some song you didn’t know was playing.

it was slow and sounded old, you didn’t recognize it.

“james come on, im really tired.” you say, smiling though, you didn’t know why he was doing this. he must’ve had an awfully good day.

“just for a bit.” why were his hands on your waist? why were you nervous. you nodded, you felt that if you opened your mouth to speak, nothing would come out.

you could feel his breathing on your neck, his hands roaming your waist as he lead them up to your shoulders.

his hands were on the low of your back, under your shirt. that was certainly new, and that was really not a massage, but you weren’t complaining.

you looked back at him, wide eyed, what was he doing?

once you turned your face to look at him, you couldn’t look away anymore.

maybe it was how nice he looked in the paused lighting of the tv, maybe it was how warm he felt, when the weather was so chilly recently, whatever it was, it hooked you.

he was looking straight into your eyes and you felt so open to him, it was weird to see him like this.

you felt like you were back in school being head over heels for your brother's best friend.

you heard keys jingling outside, so you stepped away, leaving him sat by himself wondering what he did wrong. sirius opened the door abruptly, scaring james, who looked at him confused.

“sorry, mate, the door was … hey! is that my instrumental playlist?” james turned a bit pink.

“yeah, I was just...” he looked at you. “forget it.” he turned it off. you were pretending to be unbothered, looking at something on your phone.

you couldn’t quite wrap your mind around what had just happened.

you unfolded the sofa into a bed, getting comfortable on the right side, but then you felt his eyes back on you as sirius went into his own room.

“oh, sorry. do you want the couch? i can sleep on the chair, i don’t really-“

“we can share. don’t worry about it.” you nod at his comment. what had gotten into him? he turned off the lights, leaving the tv on. you were trying to calm down, sleeping in the same place as him, being nervous about it was so silly, but, still, you could feel your heartbeat.

“you wanna pick something?” he interrupted your thoughts, you didn’t want to watch anything. you wanted it to be over as soon as possible.

“no, you can just go back to your thing, i don’t mind it.” you answered. he laid down by your side.

fuck.

you were going to share the damn blanket.

he unpaused the tv, putting the remote on the right arm of the couch, that was your side. his arm went over you, he wrapped his arm around your waist once he went back to his side, though half of it was empty.

was he trying to spoon you? you could feel yourself getting nervous, your body starting to feel hot.

you (stupidly) decided to test his actual intentions with that, turning to your side to see if he’d pull you in, he quickly did.

you could have died right there.

he had never even hugged you before, was he really horny or something? and so you felt it.

‘oh my god.’ you thought to yourself repeatedly.

you felt his hand on your waist, pulling you closer to him, which was basically impossible with your ass already glued to his crotch.

you ended up sleeping like that, waking up in the morning to the ‘are you still watching?’ screen.

the day was fine, and you found out you and James had a lot in common, you ended up talking the entire evening, he spent the whole party next to you.

you slept in separate rooms at night, but you still spent a while with him in his room talking about all sorts of things. you never imagined how you and james could be alike. you never imagined how he could be so sweet, funny and nice.

after the fall holidays you and james became closer and closer, when labor day came up you realized how much you liked him and when thanksgiving came around, you realized how you might actually be falling for him.

he didn’t help with that at all. he was always touching you, you even ended up cuddling when you would watch some awful movie in his room.

you never really got if he liked you as a friend or he wanted something more, until christmas.

you carefully placed your gifts under the tree on christmas eve, so in the morning when you saw a little box with your name on it, you were incredibly excited.

everyone was sat on the living room floor, opening gifts. in the little box was an envelope and it was from all of the guys. there was something written in the paper inside but you didn’t want to read it at the moment.

“thanks” you smiled, but you didn’t quite know what it meant.

“we all talked and we want you to put your name on the lease.” sirius said quickly, looking at you anxiously.

“like, actually?” you ask, starting to feel extremely happy because you loved living with them.

“yeah” remus answered, smiling.

“thanks, i really appreciate it.” you couldn’t stop smiling, it felt great to know they wanted you there. james, who was sitting next to you, gave you a one arm hug and a kiss on the forehead.

“so you’re gonna let me pay rent now?” you ask to your brother, smiling.

“i guess so.” he replied. you knew he was happy too. “gonna get you an actual gift though”

they were planning a big christmas party, they invited some people from work, the girls and some other people you didn’t really know, so you were expecting to spend the night with james. you went all out, put on your favorite red dress which was short but still fancy for the event.

once you were ready, half of the party was already there, including all of james’ coworkers and friends. you sat next to him on the couch, they were all there all talking about something from his work you didn’t really understand.

they were all dressed up too, but what shocked you the most was that james was wearing a suit, sure, his necktie was already loose and the buttons on his shirt too, but he looked amazing.

“can i stay with you for the rest of the night? i don’t really know anyone here.” you whispered into his ear, nervous about the answer.

“sure” he nodded. “hey, henry” he called for his coworker that was sitting on the arm of ouch.

“yeah?” the guy answered.

“this is y/n, the friend i was telling you about the other day.” james gestures to you. you can’t help but smile awkwardly and wonder what he said about you.

“oh, hi! pleasure to meet you.” he got up from his chair and shook your hand, smiling at james and nodding. what did that mean?

“pleasure to meet you too.” you smile at him.

“i’m just gonna get some drinks, i’ll ill be right back. do you want something?” james asked you.

“just a soda.” he gets up and heads to the kitchen.

“so, tell me, how are your brownies?” henry jokes, you look at him confused.

“good, i guess, but thats a biased opinion.” you answer, curious on how he knew about your brownies.

“you know, james talks about you all the time.” he comments, you were sure he already had a few drinks.

“really? what does he say?”

“when you first moved in he hated you, you know? he always said it was fun to make you mad and all. but since october he’s been so nice when he talks about you, i personally think he fancies you, but i wouldn’t know. i don’t think he’d tell me if he did, specially because you’re his friends sister and all.” he was rambling but you really enjoyed the part he said about james seeing you as more than a friend, you enjoyed it so much you didn’t even pay attention to what he said after that.

“i doubt it, we just turned into good friends, that’s all.”

“nah, i think he wants to make you into something else.” henry might’ve just made your entire night with that phrase. you couldn’t hide your smile anymore.

“here’s your soda, a beer for you, henry” james handed the drinks and took a sip of his coke. you sat next to him, holding your soda in both of your hands, looking down at it nervously. “did something happen?” he asked you.

“no, just thinking ‘bout something” you answer, looking into his eyes now. he smiles, wrapping his arm around your waist. that makes you so flustered, you feel your entire body getting warmer and that’s just the start of it.

for the rest of the night, he stayed by your side. his hand resting on your waist, thigh, around your shoulders, wherever he wanted them. you could feel your heart beating in your chest for most of the time. he had never done that before, not in public and surely not like that, not in a sexual manner, at least that’s how you identified it, because one thing was a friendly touch, the other was what he was doing.

he made you feel needy, aching for more - he was making you want him.

did he notice? did he ever even perceive how he made you feel? how could he not?

goosebumps covered you once he grazed your thigh for the first time out of five, the fifth was when he finally let his hand stay put there.

it made you feel crazy, it really did.

you didn’t know if he meant it as you took it, but you really hoped he did.

the party was still going around 1am, james had disappeared and you were left sitting on the couch, waiting for him to come back.

you couldn’t stop thinking about him and it made you feel kind of silly. you were a bit disappointed that nothing happened but you sort of expected it. you knew nothing would actually occur, but still, it made you a bit sad. maybe the touch lead you on, but it-

you looked at your phone once it vibrated and you felt the absolute need to scream because of how excited the text made you, but you didn’t.

‘James: come to my room once you read this, please.’

you didn’t think much of it, though you would’ve come if he just asked you to like he normally did.

you finished your drink and knocked on his door. he opened it but didn’t look at you, his eyes were focused on your knees, he looked nervous.he was still wearing his pants and the dress shirt, except it was unbuttoned. shit.

“y/n?” he was looking at you now.

fuck.

“yeah?”

“you look really good tonight.”

“i clean up nice sometimes.” you smile.

“oh please, you always look good” he turned a bit pink once he said it. “and thats a really nice dress” his voice was low when he said it, was he actually hitting on you?

“thank you” you whispered, you couldn’t help but feel anxious as his body got closer to yours.

“you know, i’ve been thinking about something for a while now” he says. you could feel your stomach start to twist and turn because you were so anxious on what he was doing next. you hummed, making sure he would continue what he was saying, but he didn’t.

he just kissed you like it was the easiest thing in the world. he pulled you into his room and closed the door, locking it quickly.

the feeling of his lips on yours was something you craved for a while now, you needed it so much you started to wonder if it was normal for you to need something this much.

you couldn’t stop once it started. his hands were on your hips and you tugged onto his hair desperately.

kissing him is redefining the whole concept of kissing to you, and probably ruining every other sexual experience you could have for the rest of your life.

he pushed you into the door, his hands now on your ass.

“shit” he let out quickly as he stopped kissing you so roughly and started giving you quick pecks. “you have no idea how long i wanted to do this.” you hummed. “you’re so fucking hot, it makes me crazy.” the praise was making your stomach twist again, a wet spot being formed between your legs.

he carried you with your legs around his body and took you to his bed. the same bed you have used to lay down to watch movies, to just gossip or discuss things, to do whatever.

he sat down and kept you on his lap, straddling him, but you needed more. as he kissed you roughly and messily you would casually rock your hips, causing friction. after you did that a few times he laid you down on the bed, telling you to stop being such a tease, he got on top of you, supporting himself with his knees, one of them between your legs, causing friction and making you more aroused.

when he started playing with the strings that held the dress together, you knew you were done for, so you let him undo the bow, kissing your neck. he was messy, sometimes he would bite and it would send bolts of electricity down your spine.

“james…” you let out as he bit you again.

“tell me” he said, trailing his kisses down to your clavicle. “can i take this off too?” he asked, playing with your bra. you nodded but he didn’t move an inch.

“i need to hear you say it. can i take this off?” he was such a fucking tease, it made you go crazy. he loved to hear your voice, he knew you wanted him to take it off, he just liked to hear you say it.

“yes, please” you struggled to hold in a moan once he started sucking on your neck.

“thank you” he answered, looking back to the hickey he gave you. “hmm, that’s gonna leave a mark, sorry baby” baby? he had never called you that, you hummed as he took off his collared shirt and then proceeded to take off your bra . he groaned at the sight of you, which drove you mad. his growing bulge was exposed.

he was big.

you immediately regretted every single time you had made a small dick joke (sure, there were only 2 times but they did happen).

he was on his knees, towering over you.

“you’re so pretty”, he leaned down to kiss you again, this time more eager than ever. his right hand cupped your jaw as his left one roamed your body, making you ache for more and more. “i really wanna touch you” he whispered and went back to kissing you, his left hand now between your thighs, waiting for permission to move.

“please” you whisper, stopping the kiss briefly. he kept on kissing you as he stimulated you through the fabric of your underwear, but that didn't happen for long, especially because of how wet it was, he needed to touch you, he couldn't help himself. the dress was so hiked up it looked like a shirt, but instead of helping you take it off, he pulled it down a bit, so he had access to your chest. he immediately started kissing around your left tit, making you go absolutely insane. and that combined with the sudden touch to your clit? yeah, you were getting fucked up that night.

he was better than anyone had ever been to you. sucking in your nipple and fingering you slowly, he was making you go crazy, needing him more.

he stopped sucking on your nipple and went back to your neck, his hand not stopping at all. the right one went to cover your mouth as you moaned.

“be quiet, hm? want everyone to listen? don’t wanna stuff that pretty mouth of yours too” his non dominant hand went to your neck, choking you lightly as his other one fucked into you. you were so close to cumming, with his thumb stimulating your clit as his other fingers went in and out of you, he knew that you were close, specially with the way your pussy was tightening around him. “so fucking tight, aren’t you? can’t imagine how you’re gonna feel around my cock” he stopped and took his fingers out, making you whine, missing the feeling of him.

“jameees” you moan, finding the courage in you to pull him in, giving him a kiss.

“take it off”

“what?” you’re confused.

“the dress, i really wanna fuck you in it but i don’t wanna ruin it.” he lets out. “take it off” he sounded like he was ordering you, and you loved it so much, you wanted to give something back to him.

“i will, but can i suck you off first?” you ask, looking at him doe eyed, and how could he say no?

“you really want to?” he asks, furrowed brows, you nod, quickly getting on your knees as he unbuckles his belt, throwing it on the carpet. he got up and pulled his pants down, staying just in his boxers, he climbed back into bed with you, kissing you sweetly.

you were on your knees in front of him, pulling his cock out of his underwear, stroking it lightly then kissing the tip. you take him in your mouth, using your hands to stroke what couldn’t fit, which, frankly, was about a bigger portion of it. he was the biggest you ever had.

“fuck” he groaned at the movements you were making, using his left hand to get strands of hair out of your face, as his right one supported him on the bed. he was trying not to thrust into your mouth but you were making it so hard. “your mouth was made for me, baby” he whispered, looking into your eyes. his free hand went to your neck, choking you just a bit, as your head bobbed up and down, taking as much as possible.

“so good, your mouth feels so goddamn good honey” he groaned as he finished the sentence and you used your non dominant hand to cup his balls. he was moaning a bit and it was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen or heard, though you were sure you would see hotter things that same night. he started thrusting lightly, he couldn’t help himself, specially with how good your mouth made him feel.

“stop” he ordered you, and so you did, a pop sound being made as you stopped sucking and looked up at him.

“did i do something wrong?” you ask, brows furrowed. his hand hasn’t left your neck, and so he pulls you in by it. his tongue went straight in your mouth, he needed to taste him on your lips.

“i wanna fuck you” he said, looking into your eyes, waiting for any kind of response.

“yes. please do” you quickly say, kissing him quickly.

“the dress” he remembers and you quickly take it off, not stopping the staring for a second.

“want you down on all fours” he says, getting on his knees. you do as he commands, getting in an arch position as he’s on his knees behind you. he can see that you still haven’t taken off your underwear, he bites on your ass cheek and then pulls it down with his teeth.

“you don’t mind if i keep this, don’t you?” he asks, helping you take it off fully. “it’s already ruined”

“it’s yours” you look back at him, he’s smirking like the devil. he throws your underwear into his bedside drawer.

“gotta keep it safe” he whispers. you can feel his bulge through his boxers as he leans in to kiss your neck, you whine, needing him more.

“patience, i’m gonna give it to you, sweetheart” his right hand gave your ass a smack. “up” he said, signaling for you to arch your back even more. as you do so, he groans, pressing his covered member against your wet cunt.

“you’re so pretty like this, all for me?” he asked, using his hand to play with your clit.

“y-yes, all yours” you said, trying not to whine mid sentence.

“good girl. mine” he gave your shoulder a quick peck. “gonna put it in now, okay? tell me if you wanna stop” he took his dick from out of his boxers and pumped it a few times. you could’ve fainted once you felt his tip lined up to your entrance.

he went in slowly, he was way to big for you. every time you thought he was done, there would still be more of him left.

“jaaames” you would whine

“just a bit left; don’t worry, princess” once he was fully inside of you, you felt amazing, like you were in heaven. “you’re so fucking tight, ‘feels so good” he said, trying to to groan, his voice was raspy.

if took a few thrusts for you to get used to his size, but as soon as he picked up a pace, you were a mess. you couldn’t hold in your sounds, the way he was stimulating your clit was absolutely killing you.

“be fucking quiet” he demanded with a groan, “you want everyone to know who you belong to, huh?” he didn’t stop, he just went quicker as a matter of fact.

“fuck!” you squealed as he pinched your clit, his thrusts began to be more rough, you couldn’t even focus. you’re eyes kept rolling back, your mind was fully blank and the only thing that was coming out of your mouth in that moment was a mixture of james, fuck, shit and a few other curse words.

you were in ecstasy.

“you like this, don’t you?” he was grunting lowly in between every few thrusts. you were so close, you felt your high coming to you, the way he was fucking you was not helping with you trying to hold it.

“james ohmygod james, im gonna cum” you say, trying not to stumble over your words.

“ask nicely and i’ll let you” he said, stopping the stimulation on your clit and thrusting harder. he was close too, the way your tight pussy would clench around him was making him go insane.

“please let me cum, james. need it so bad” you blurted out in between whining and moaning. he grins and goes back to stimulating you.

“good girl, do it” he went faster and didn’t stop playing with your clit. your eyes rolled back and you let it go.

your walls clench tight around him, he didn’t stop as you made a mess all over his dick.

as you finished, his thrusts only got harder, you were feeling so overstimulated and you felt like he was close too.

“fuck, sweetheart. gonna cum inside you, that’s alright?” you moaned in answer.

his hips stuttered and you felt his cock twitch spilled inside of you, his juices mixing with yours.

he made sure he got rid of every single drop.

your legs were shaking as he pulled out and tucked himself back into his underwear, you collapsed on the bed and he laid down next to you.

“wanna go back to the party?” he jokes, looking into your eyes.

“shut up” you reply, looking at the ceiling of his room.

“gonna clean you up, okay?” james assured you as he threw you a shirt of his that was under the bed. you put it on but pulled him closer to you.

“okay, but just stay with me for a while if that’s alright.” you asked.

“always” he pressed a kiss onto your forehead and you knew that this was not going to be a one time thing.

#lila writes #james potter x reader #james potter fic #james potter smut #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter oneshot #james potter fanfiction #james potter imagine #marauders x reader #silencesscreams

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luveline · 7 days

Note

Can you write where the reader walks into James room and he's crying and its the first time shes seen him cry so she comforts him pls xx

thank you for your request! fem, 1.2k

James’ house is a sanctuary to everyone he’s ever met. There are scratches on the wall by the door where Sirius has thrown it open, long deep welts of ruin under a drunken hand, two best friends laughing to the bedroom where they share a bed. You’re used to Sirius by now, an extension of James you love and make room for, but waking up to the heir of the most noble family in London sleeping off a hangover with his face buried in your boyfriend's shoulder still surprises you. His snores never change.

Then there’s Remus, the sweetheart, tracking dirt into the living room because he so often forgets he’s wearing shoes, distracted by a book or a thought he shares in half smiles knowing James will listen.

You’re everywhere. In photos like the rest of them, in your coat on the hook, your clean washing on the stairs, your shoes in the bedroom cupboard. There’s a red smudge of your lipstick on the wall at the top of the stairs where James wiped your bottom lip and then used the wall to hang over you, kissing. He keeps meaning to paint over it, you know. He says the same thing every time you bring it up, a laughing, “I’ll get to it, you thing!”

You’re used to smiles and sounds here. You aren’t acquainted with this. Sniffles from the bedroom, long, stringing gulps of air and the answering sob. It makes your chest flip. James hasn’t cried in front of you in a year of dating and two years of knowing him. James doesn’t even get pissed off unless it’s for somebody else. Something awful must’ve happened. You rush to find out what.

In the bedroom, James is just sitting there falling apart. Just, sat on the bed, his head in his hands and his shoulders shaking like an awful jagged up and down, like he’s hurting; the shock of it is in every inch of movement. James is beautiful in everything, skin and hands and dark, dark hair, but he’s hurting now as he drags fingers wet with tears through frizzing curls. He must have heard you coming up but he can’t stop, lifting his chin, an apology twisted in his mouth that he doesn’t say aloud.

“Lovely, what happened?” you ask, sure you’re gonna fall through the floor. “What happened? What–”

You aren’t giving him time to answer. You need to know.

“No, it’s alright–”

“It’s not alright,” you say, standing in front of him with stiff arms. “What happened, James?”

“It’s okay.” He cries a little, sniffs, looking up at you with swimming eyes. “It’s alright, I’m just– it’s just– well, it’s just everything, I suppose, but it’s…” He looks down, his mouth twisting again in an apology you don’t want to take. He shakes himself.

“James, what’s everything?”

“Silly stuff.” James takes your hand. Telling, that a boy who’s spent his entire life looking after the people he loves would attempt to comfort you with tears still hot on his cheeks.

You look down at his long fingers.

James plays piano. He learned your favourite song for you before he’d ever asked you out, and when he’d played it for you, he’d played so beautifully you felt sick for days, felt sick every time you thought of him, but in the moment he’d laughed at your teary eyes and pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head. Lovely girl, he’d said, laughing, I won’t play it again if you’re gonna cry like that.

You figure he must want comfort as he gives it, wrapping your arms around him to steer him toward a soft kiss, his hair like strands of satin under your lips. “Nothing that upsets you like this could ever be silly.”

He pushes you away. Not without love, but pushing away regardless. He stands in the space you leave and wipes his cheeks with the backs of his hands. It’s nearly like he’s dancing. Just the way his arms move. But then he drops them and turns away from you, your heart plummeting to your stomach.

“James.”

“It’s not like that. I was hoping I’d be done before you got home. Should we go out for dinner or something?”

“James–”

“What?” he asks, smiling, at odds with his sad eyes. “Love, it’s really fine, I’m fine.” Love. You let out a long breath, chest a cold ache slowly warmed by his gaze. There’s care for you in every eyelash, but it still shocks you when he hugs you. “It’s okay. Sorry I scared you.”

James. “Fucking hell, Jamie, I’m not scared, I want you to tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it for you.”

He chokes on breath. “I’m fine,” he says. He doesn’t believe it himself, a crack running straight through his words. “Sorry,” he says, sickly, kissing the top of your head as you’d kissed his.

Clearly he’s not going to let you be the one domineering the situation, but that’s okay. He can kiss your head and hold you on the edge of too tight. You slip a hand under the edge of his T-shirt to stroke his back, until your hand is numb to it, and he’s sagging against you heavily.

“You’re really not fine, I can see that much.”

He’s quiet, but you can tell there’s something he wants to say.

“But that’s okay,” you say, hand clasping his back . You pat a steady rhythm there as he sighs. “It really is. I don’t know why you think you have to be finished crying before I get home, but that’s not true. You can cry. You can cry buckets. Please don’t pretend you’re not upset because of me, I’d feel so bad.”

Something hot and wet touches your forehead. “M’sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” You pull back to pat his cheek.

James stares at you. Tears well in usually warm eyes and get caught in the wet hedge of his lashes. You try to wipe them away before they can fall —you don’t wanna see your sweetheart crying.

“Don’t frown,” he says softly.

“I’m trying not to. Here, let me,” —you wipe his cheeks with your sleeve, voice a muttering thing as his skin pinks beneath your touch— “just get that there for you. Your eyes are red, Jamie, I hope you haven’t been upset for too long.”

“No, uh. No, not too long.”

“Can you please tell me what’s wrong? I’d like to know.”

James’ face presses to your neck in seconds. He pauses, and then he sobs. That’s more like it. You stand there in the bedroom until your legs are stiff, and then you only move to lay him down in bed to be your little spoon. “It's not fine,” you say, your arm around him, the other playing in the swirl of his parting, “but it will be. You’re really too handsome for all these tears.”

“You think I’m handsome?”

He sounds sweet when he’s trying to make you laugh. You reach over him to kiss his hot cheek.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

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pretty-little-mind33 · 8 months

Text

James Potter x muggle fem!reader

Summary: Three weeks after his devastating break up with Lily, James wanted Remus and Sirius to bring him to a muggle bar in central London.

Genre: Fluff / prequel to my fic Timeless / pt.2 Sweeter Than Fiction

Warnings: swearing, mentions of injury, intoxication

Remus has warned him him has always had a flair for the dramatics.

"I mean, why did I even like her?" James slurs loudly as he slams his whiskey glass onto the counter, white foam spilling over his hand, and he curses.

Remus rests his hand on James's arm to shush him and he glances over at Sirius with a concerned expression for their friend. "Prongs, you promised you were okay," his eyebrows quirk and, crossing his arms, he looks at James with a saddened expression.

James's eyes just narrow and he nods his head furiously, "I am okay," He insists, "I just don't understand why – "

When James flings out his arms in exasperation, his hand accidentally collides with your hip as you pass by. All the wine glasses you had been balancing on your tray suddenly shatter to the ground with a loud crash. Sirius and Remus hurry to stand as the spilled alcohol barely misses their trousers.

"Oh my, I'm so sorry," You say, clearly embarrassed as you kneel down and frantically pick up the shards of glass as everyone turns to stare.

"Woah," James cries as he jumps up. Just as he starts to warn you not to hurt yourself, you cut your palm and hiss in pain. James is immediately kneeling next to you and, with a movement unusually delicate for someone so drunk, moves to hold your wrist in his hand, "Shit, that looks nasty." He mutters.

You look at him, "Yeah, it hurts like a bitch," you say plainly and stand. James drops your wrist. Sirius hands you a napkin and you press it to the wound.

James stands next to you now and you look at all three of them. "I'm sorry again, I hope I didn't spill any on you. Shit, I'm gonna lose my job for this," you look away, your hair falling in front of your eyes as you groan.

"No. Don't worry. We aren't hurt or anything, right guys?" James exclaims, again a little too aware for someone so drunk and slaps Sirius on his back.

Sirius frowns and sends him a knowing look but smiles at you reassuringly as Remus nods. "So, you really shouldn't get in trouble and," James adds, "Hey, I don't think you're okay…" His train of thought seems interrupted by the amount of blood on the napkin.

You glance down, eyes widening, "Oh, shit yeah," you tilt your head up, feeling heat rise in your cheeks, and look at them bashfully, "Fuck, ah—sorry I keep cursing. This just hurts a lot. I think I have to clean go it."

James eyebrows crease for a moment as he watches you turn around and quickly walk away, the bloody napkin still pressed to your hand.

"Oh," his eyes light up like a child when you turn around and address them over the loud bar, "Thank you," you say with a smile and while he's unsure why you're thanking him, his stomach fills with a thousand butterflies.

"You're doing it again," Sirius mutters, sipping his drink as he stares at his friend.

"Hmm?" James doesn't tear his eyes away from you until you disappear behind some curtains into a back room.

"You have that look on your face, the one you wear right before you do something stupid," Remus finishes sternly.

James's eyes roll, acting less drunk than he seemed earlier. Almost as if you sobered him up a little.

"Oh please," he lies, "When have I ever done anything stupid?"

* * *

James leans against the brick of the building, a cigarette in his mouth. His cheeks are flushed from the cold air as he looks around. The street is dimly lit and barely anyone is around at this time of night.

He smiles as he pulls the cigarette from his mouth. He had convinced Remus and Sirius to let him have a smoke outside. Something told him you would be out here. James has always been lucky with that sort of thing.

Tonight proves him right because he sees you leave out the backdoor. Your hand seems to be bandaged as you delicately shut the door. You're bundled up in a scarf and a coat that looks a little oversized. James wonders if that means you have a partner. He moves away from the wall and walks over.

"Hi," he clears his throat, making you jump.

You turn around and he can tell you're trying to recognize him in the darkness but then your eyes widen. "Oh, hi!" you exclaim, your voice coming out a little squeaky as you push down your scarf a little. "Can I help you?" you ask him.

James smiles and shakes his head. "I just wanted to apologize," he pauses when he sees your expression shift into confusion, "I'm the one that caused you to slip and hurt yourself. Here?" he adds and holds out his hand to sit on the curb.

He can tell you hesitate to follow him. Understandably. You don't take his hand but you walk with him further away from the building. You sit down and James leans his hands on his knees as he looks at you. "M'name is James. Potter, James Potter."

You laugh, smoothing a hand down your jeans, "You say that like James Bond," you smile but your smile drops when James doesn't look like he understands the reference. You don't mention it. "My name is Y/n Y/l/n, it's nice to meet you, James Potter."

"I hope you don't mind me asking this but you aren't fired are you?"

You shake your head, "Oh, no, thankfully." You look up at him a little bashfully, "I was just more worried than I should have been. I'm not the best at this job."

"Mmm, don't say that. You wouldn't have dropped the tray if I hadn't bumped you," James says reassuringly.

"I'm just clumsy," you chuckle. James smirks a little and tilts his head.

"Do you want to go out tomorrow? I know a good restaurant." He says it so bluntly you can't help but stare at him like he's grown two heads.

"What?"

"I wanna take you out," James pauses, backtracking as his cheeks burn pink, "If you'd like."

Your mind seems to be racing uncontrollably and James feels a little guilty. He doesn't want to pressure you. Could he have misread something? Or maybe he'd just imagined it all.

He stands up and dusts his pants. Usually, James wouldn't be one to up so easily but if he'd learned anything from Lily — persistence isn't the way into someone's heart.

"Wait," you stand up with him, looking into his eyes, "I would love to go out with you." You smile so wide your eyes squint and something in James's chest stirs as he can't help but smile at yours.

You laugh and it's contagious. Then, you walk up to James and rummage through your bag. Once you find your pen you scribble your number onto his palm with difficulty. "This looks much easier in the movies," you mumble with the cap in your mouth. James chuckles, looking at his palm to make sure he can read every number clearly.

"Call me?" you whisper, tucking your pen back into your bag as you look up at James.

"I will," he says, and one day later (he only waited that long because he couldn't figure out how to work the muggle phone) he does.

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flemingsfreckles · 15 days

Text

New Name

Synopsis: You and Jessie find a way to subtlety announce your marriage.

WC: 2.1k

Warnings: none :)

A/N: stuff in italics is in the past, previous stuff that happened… I promise replacement and drunk dial are being worked on… just sometimes you need a little bit of a fluffy break

Jessie adds your last name to her jersey as a way of announcing your marriage

Jessie smirked as she walked around into the locker room, immediately making a brisk walk toward her cubby where her jersey for the game today was hung. She could see it from across the room, everyone else’s, back of the jersey facing the room, names obviously on display, except hers.

Hers had been turned around, just as she has requested. As she reached it, she took a deep breath before reaching for the hanger and turning it to look at the back. For the first time she read not only her own last name, but followed by a hyphen and your last name. Unable to contain herself Jessie felt a huge smile break across her face as she quickly grabbed out her phone snapping a photo of the back before sending it to you.

You were at home, cleaning up from the breakfast you had made for your newly made wife before she headed out for pregame work. She had told you she needed to go in for something early, you didn’t question it. Jessie often had meetings, media, little extra training she wanted to do, small stuff that she’d add on before or after her game days so this was nothing new. What she didn’t tell you was why she had gone in so early.

That surprise came in the form of a photo. You opened your phone after seeing the notification from your wife, smiling when you remembered she was your wife now, not just your girlfriend, not just your fiancée, she was your wife.

Jessie 🫎❤️: had to come in to make sure this was all set

Jessie 🫎❤️: Attachment

You clicked on the picture and your jaw dropped. You saw the all too familiar image of a jersey, Jessie’s name and number on the back. Only now, your last name sat side by side with your wife’s. You stared and stared at the image.

Jessie 🫎❤️: Hope that’s okay, I’m thinking now that I should’ve double checked that it was okay to do today. We talked about it for the first game back but, I’m sorry.

You: I’m speechless, definitely not upset

Jessie 🫎❤️: okay, I still should’ve checked with you, I just thought it would be a cool way to announce it, and I figured it’s a good time to do it.

You: So everyone will know we’re married after today, I like that.

Private but not secret has been the motto that describes your relationship with Jessie. The two of you had been dating since she was at Chelsea. Neither of you ever publicly announced you were dating, but the speculation was abundant. The two of you were always together. You posted photos of Jessie with you at farmers markets, at coffee shops, on hikes, you always attended her games and she’d come see you in the stands, you weren’t hiding it by any means. PDA was never something you were big on so it didn’t bother you to be reserved around your girlfriend when others were present. After nearly 3 years together in London, when Jessie made the move to Portland, you followed her, only solidifying the rumors and assumptions that the two of you were together when fans spotted that Jessie was still coming over to the same girl after her move.

After a year in Portland together, you proposed, Jessie said yes and the two of you slowly began planning a wedding. Unfortunately with the Olympics, international windows, the NWSL season, on top of your job, little to no wedding planning was done by either of you. Not that you minded, it was fine, you’d get to it when you did. You were committed regardless, a piece of paper and a party weren’t going to change that.

It had been an off week for Portland, you and Jessie had been having an easy morning, both of you on the couch, books in hand enjoying each other's company.

“Would you ever have considered eloping?” Jessie puts her book down looking across the couch at you and nudging her foot into your thigh.

“Hmm?” You hum, engrossed in your book not fully hearing what Jessie had said. You finish reading the sentence you were on before putting your own book down to give her your attention. “Sorry what?”

“Eloping? Would you have ever considered it before?” She asks flatly before adding. “It’s in my book, I just was curious.”

“What do you mean ‘before’?” You shifted on the couch, pulling the blanket up more.

“Like we’ve discussed having a big formal wedding obviously, I mean like, before we discussed that?” Jessie clarifies.

“I mean, sure, I think I’d still consider it honestly, easy, quick, intimate. I’m honestly surprised you were more into the idea of the big wedding.” It was true, despite the small planning you had done, the guest list had been one of the first things, when it was all said and done the two of you were looking at a couple hundred names of people you planned to invite.

“I’m not, I actually always liked the idea of eloping. Just me and my future wife, somewhere with a view. I thought you wanted to do the full formal wedding, and I think it’s just been programmed into my head that I have to invite all my teammates and by default that’s a big wedding.”

You hesitate for a moment, listening and processing Jessie’s statement. Just as she goes to reopen her book you speak up. “Want to then?” You say, raising an eyebrow at her and giving a shrug of your shoulders.

“Want to, what?” She puts the book back into her lap.

“Elope?” You say casually, unsure of how Jessie had lost her way in the conversation you were having.

“Seriously?” Jessie squints across the couch at you.

“If you are?”

“When?” She cocks her head at you.

“I’m free tomorrow or if not tomorrow I’m also available the next day?” It’s true, you both were free, no plans, no responsibilities.

You watch Jessie squint at you before a smirk begins to show on her face. “I can’t tell if you’re kidding with me or not.”

“I’m not.”

“Okay.” She sighs and laughs. “Tomorrow then.”

“Okay, let me make some calls.” You immediately hop off the couch, making a run toward your phone that sat charging. You hear Jessie laughing at the way you frantically jumped from the couch, that was a sound you were ready to listen to for the rest of your life.

It took 2 phone calls, one to Jessie’s sister and one to a local company that helped you sort out everything you’d need. Jessie’s sister had always been Jessie’s best friend and since the two of you started dating, you became closer and closer with her, she was already set to be Jessie’s maid of honor, it made sense to call her and ask if she’d be your witness. You both also knew you could trust her not to let out your little secret before you wanted everyone to know.

The following day the two of you, Jessie‘s sister, a photographer, and the man who would marry you arrived at the trailhead of a quiet path that you and Jessie frequently hiked.

The five of you hiked to a small opening within the trees, a view of a mountain in the clearing. While everyone got set up, you and Jessie walked over, hand in hand, taking a second to admire the view.

“This is perfect.” Jessie said her head resting on your shoulder as the two of you looked out.

“I know.” You let out a satisfied sigh. “I can’t believe we were going to do the big party instead.”

“I don’t know what we were thinking.”

Just minutes later you and Jessie stood hand in hand, looking at each other with stupidly happy grins on your faces and joyful tears in your eyes as you were officially pronounced as wives. The two of you had just exchanged silicone wedding bands, all you could manage with a 12 hours notice, agreeing you’d get metal ones once you broke the news to everyone.

Jessie pulled you in for a sweet kiss, sealing your marriage. “I’m your wife now.” She said quietly as she pulled away, her forehead resting on yours as the two of you looked at each other.

“You’re my wife.”

Jessie sat in her cubby, jersey still hung up behind her as she nervously bounced her leg. Her other teammates would be showing up any minute, she wasn’t sure how to go about it. Did she make it a big deal? Make a formal announcement? Did she just wait for someone to notice?

That’s when Janine came around the corner first, giving Jessie a quick smile and wave that the urge to tell someone broke. Had it been anyone else Jessie might have been able to hold the news in, but her best friend, she couldn’t do it.

“We got married!” Jessie nearly shouts at her teammate who whips her head around from where she was standing at her own cubby.

“What?”

Jessie turns, grabbing the jersey behind her and holding it out to Janine. “We, last Friday, we got married, we eloped.”

“Holy shit!” She comes up, grabbing the jersey to hold it out and look at it herself. “Wow. I can’t believe it. Shy little Jessie, married before me.” Janine teased. Jessie could feel her face flush slightly. “Is this your announcement?”

Jessie nodded. “We decided might as well let everyone know, confirm the suspicions everyone has had for years now.”

“That’s really exciting Jessie, I’m so happy for you both.” Janine pats Jessie on the back before pulling her in for a quick hug.

“What’s exciting?” The two turn to see more teammates trailing in. A couple of them looked over where Jessie and Janine were standing.

“Go ahead, show it off!” Janine hands her back the jersey and Jessie wanders over to where the group of teammates stood. She slowly starts telling her teammates the news. It's only a few minutes before her whole team knows and the locker room is filled with congratulatory applause and cheers from her teammates as they all learn the news.

A few hours later you’re standing in the family section, sporting a jersey of your own, your new shared last name across the back. When you arrived at the stadium to get your friends and family credentials, a member of the equipment staff had met you, presenting you with a jersey that matched the one in the photo Jessie had sent you. A small note from Jessie attached to it.

‘For my wife, I love you.’ You smiled at the note, the fact that wife was your official title now still had yet to set in. You thanked the staff and quickly found a restroom to change in before heading to your seat.

You found yourself sitting watching, your right index finger and thumb playing with the silicone band that now rested on your left ring finger. It felt weird. Not bad, but new and different, exciting, every time you touched it you thought of Jessie and your perfect little wedding. A few of the other player’s family had asked about the jersey, some of them making jokes that you two needed to hurry and actually get married until you told them you had. You received the same congratulations that your wife was getting from her own teammates.

When the speaker came on to announce the starting eleven for each team you nearly held your breath waiting for Jessie’s name to be called. You didn’t know if she was having them say it, maybe she’d keep it just her name for the lineup. When you heard her first name called, your ears perked up, not only was her last name announced, but your last name followed hers, just as it was written on the jersey. You noticed a murmur in the crowd after the initial cheers died down. No doubt people were confused about her name but you didn’t care.

The game was an easy one, Portland beating Seattle and you got to watch your wife score a beautiful goal. As it landed in the back of the net she immediately bolted over to where you were standing, holding out her left hand toward the direction in which you stood before kissing her ring finger. She then turned to celebrate with her teammates, but the celebration definitely got the message across.

When the game finished you made your way down to the pitch to find Jessie. “Hi wifey.” You say, coming up behind her and wrapping your arms around her to pull her close.

“Hi wife.” She says, pulling her attention away from her conversation with Quinn who quickly congratulated both of you.

“My last name looks good on you.” You say as you lean over putting a small peck on her cheek.

“I know it does, we should’ve done this years ago.”

#jessie fleming #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #jessie fleming blurb #canwnt x reader

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alotofpockets · 4 months

Text

Flirting & friendzones | Leah Williamson x Arsenal/Swiss!Reader

Where Leah is a flirt and you are scared to give in to your feelings

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.6k

-----

Moving to a new club always brought some nerves with it, but luckily your national team captain and close friend Lia Wälti had been at your new club for years. Through her you had met some of her teammates for quick moments on the field during national team games over the years, but you didn't have much more of a connection with them.

While that connection wasn't there, you had kept one secret from Lia, and that was that you had a crush on her best friend Leah ever since she first introduced the two of you on the pitch years ago. You had never acted on your crush on the England captain more than following her on Instagram, but now you'd be playing at the same club as her, which brought a whole different wave of nerves your way.

You were welcomed at Arsenal with open arms, as Lia had ensured you. Each and everyone of your teammates, and the staff members made you feel right at home. Lia had helped you secure an apartment before you had arrived, so you had your own space right away.

After your first training, Lia invited you to come hang out and Beth and Viv their place. A regular hangout spot according to her, especially since they just got a new puppy. Lia drove you home from training, and told you she’d pick you up in an hour to head over to Beth and Viv’s.

An hour later your doorbell rang, but when you opened the door it was Leah instead of Lia. “Hey, Lia had to run some errands before heading over to the girls, so she asked me to pick you up instead.” Leah had taken the request to ‘pick you up’ to a whole new level as she started flirting with you.

“You look great by the way.” She started while you walked over to her car. Just a simple friendly comment you thought, but still the blush rushed to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You said before quickly getting a step ahead of the blonde, to make sure she wouldn’t notice your blushing.

Of course Leah noticed right away and would now make it her mission to see you blush. “I mean it, you clean up nice. Haven’t seen you outside of football kits in person.” You reach the door and she opens your side for you. “Seems like a great date outfit too, if you even need a dinner date to wear it to, you know where to find me.” She left you frozen in place with her comment, and closed your door only to get in on the other side with a big smirk on her face.

“So, how has London been treating you so far?” You started telling Leah about your first week there, happy to no longer be the target of her flirting. At least that is what you thought until she followed up with, “Good to hear! If you ever need a tour guide, I am more than happy to volunteer.” On its own it wouldn’t be flirting, but the way she looked at you while you said it, gave the sentence a whole different meeting.

“I really appreciate it, but Lia is showing me around already.” You said as you got out of the car, as you arrived at the girls' house. “Always Lia, huh?” She acted hurt. “Well, if she ever gets too busy, give me a call.” You walked up to the door quickly, “Oh look at that, we’re here.” You say as Beth opens the door. Darting inside without even saying a proper hello, propping yourself up between Viv and Kim who were already cuddling with Myle.

Beth turned her attention to Leah, “Damn, what did you do?” She shrugs her shoulders, “Nothing.” In return Beth raised an eyebrow towards Leah, but she didn’t push further. Instead she turned her attention to you. “Glad you could make it. I see Myle made a new friend already!” Myle had gotten comfortable in your lap and started taking a nap there only moments after you had sat down. “She’s very cute.” You comment while looking at the pup lovingly. “I understand why everyone wants to hang out at your place.” You joke.

The conversations between everyone started flowing freely, and you felt immediately accepted into the group of girls. Leah continued her flirting with the rest of the girls around, which piqued the interest of the girls, though they didn’t say anything. Only the occasional chuckle when you would turn Leah down again.

It was hard having to say no to the woman you had been crushing on for years, but you had just joined a new club and she was co-captain of it, as well as Lia’s best friend. It didn’t seem right to act on your feelings, even though Leah was acting on them plenty. You came here to play football, you kept reminding yourself.

Half an hour later Lia arrived, carrying in a few bags of groceries. “Sorry, it was quite busy at the store. What did I miss?” Some of the girls looked between you and Leah and wondered if they should poke some fun at the situation, but before they could, you answered her question. “Nothing much, we were just talking about how cute Myle is.”

Lia, who had handed the groceries over to Viv, sat down beside you with a smile on her face. “She really is adorable. I’m glad to see you fit right in, I was worried about leaving you out here on your own.” It really did feel like you fit right in.

“You don’t need to worry,” Leah interjected smoothly. “she wasn’t alone. I was here to make sure she’s well taken care of.” Her comment earned her a loud chuckle from Vic, who hurried to the kitchen to hide her laughter. Lia shot her best friend a look. “I’m sure you were, Lee.”

After dinner, Lia drove you home. “I am so happy you’re feeling at home already. How are the girls?” She asked while exiting the parking space. “Yeah, they’re really kind. I couldn’t have asked for a warmer welcome.” Lia was truly happy you found your spot within her little family at the club.

She turned to you with a smirk. “What?” You asked instantly, already not liking the look on her face. “Don’t what me.” She laughs, “I was just going to ask what about Leah?” The slight blush that creeped up to your cheeks should’ve said enough. “Leah has been kind too, very kind.” Lia chuckled at your expression. “Kind? That girl has been flirting with you since the moment you arrived.” Your eyes widened, Lia had noticed.

“Relax! Why do you think I introduced you all those years ago? You are literally perfect for each other. Back then I didn’t tell you my reasoning, because I didn’t think it would be fair to try and set you up with someone that lived in a different country.” She let that set in for a moment before she asked again, “So, what about Leah?” Her smirk grew again.

“Leah is great. I think I’ve kind of been pushing her into the friendzone though.” Lia stopped the car. You hadn’t been paying attention, not that you knew the roads yet, but you knew that you weren’t at your place or Lia’s. “It’s a good thing that Leah doesn’t easily give up, go shoot your shot.” You sent her a confused look, “Right now?” She points to the building ahead of you, “Yup, right now. That’s her place right there. Her car is here already, so she just got back as well.” She unbuckled your seatbelt, “Go!” You shake your head at her but get out of the car anyway. “Call me when you need a ride back.”

You walk up to Leah’s door nervously, but knock nonetheless. When Leah opens the door, Lia decides to drive off. “Oh, hi, come in. Finally done with Lia?” You roll her eyes at how her flirting turned right back on.

She walks you into her home, and you get right to the point. “Can we talk about today?” Leah’s face turns serious, feeling like she might have messed up. “Oh, I’m sorry if I was taking it too far. I thought there was a vibe, sorry if I read that wrong.” You shake your head, “No, no don’t worry. Actually it was me wanting to apologise. I was kind of pushing you towards the friendzone, because I didn’t want to mess anything up with Lia or the team.”

Leah’s lips curve into a smile again, “But now you’re throwing me a ladder to come back out of the friendszone?” Her tone is hopeful. “If I’m not too late, yeah.” The blonde shakes her head, “Definitely not too late.”

Now that the big conversation was out of the way, you finally felt like it was okay to sit down. “You know Lia has been rooting for us for years?” You nod remembering the conversation in the car. “Yeah, she told me on the way here. I had no clue that this had been her intention all along.”

Leah sits down beside you, “You know, I’ve liked you ever since we met when our teams played against each other that time Lia introduced us.” Your cheeks heat up again, “I have liked you since that day too.”

Her eyes light up, “So, can we give this a try?” Her tone was hopeful again. “Yes, I’d like that.” With that, Leah closes the distance and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. When you pull back, both of you are smiling.

“Want to stay for a while? I can drive you home wherever you want to go home.” You smile, “Yeah,” You’d love to spend more time with Leah. “I’ll text Lia and let her know that I won’t be needing that ride anymore.”

-----

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also supporting me by leaving a tip 💗

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x you #arsenal wfc imagine #arsenal wfc x reader #awfc x reader #awfc imagine #awfc #lia walti x reader #lia walti #engwnt #engwnt x reader #engwnt imagine #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #lionesses x reader

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endoftenancycleanlondon · 9 months

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goforcleaningservices · 1 year

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moonknightsonata · 9 months

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Acts of Service

pairing: moon system x reader, marc x reader centered

summary: You learn Steven and Jake’s love languages quickly, Marc’s takes a little longer to realize but it doesn’t surprise you.

cw: not many, a brief non-explicit mention of sex, Marc getting anxious about your relationship

wc: 1199

a/n: Happy new year! This is not beta read, my first time writing for the moon boys and also my first time posting and sharing a fic in probably like 5+ years. Please let me know if I’ve missed any warnings, and let me know what you think! I tried keeping the reader as inclusive as I could, but please let me know if I slipped up with anything.

—

When you first started seeing the system, they all showed affection in similar ways. Holding hands, chaste kisses, flowers at the start of dates and walking you home at the end of them. They each had their own ways of going about it, but at the start all 3 of them were stereotypical in their affection.

Now, months later, you could easily tell each of the boy’s love languages.

Steven fluttered between quality time and words of affirmation. He was a romantic at heart, so in reality, he would do anything you asked of him, really. But you could tell he was happiest just being near you, telling you how much he loved you, and hearing the words in return.

Date night with Steven would be art galleries, museum tours, site seeing, or just walking around the markets hand in hand. Cafe’s and bookshops for rainy days, which there were plenty of in London, filled weekends with him where you could just sit in each other’s company and read besides one another.

Jake was the master of physical touch. You think it’s because he didn’t have as much time fronting as the other two, and his only physical touch with humans up until the three started getting along was when he took over the body in emergencies like in Cairo. When Jake was fronting, his hands were always on you.

Jake always had his arm on you when in public. Around your shoulder, or on your waist, he didn’t have a preference as long as he had you in his arm in some way. You liked to compare him to a livestock dog. Not like sheepdogs who herded them, but like a pyrenees that would fight a wolf off a lamb.

He was also the most handsy in the bedroom.

Marc took the longest to pinpoint his love language. Mostly due to the fact that he was the last to open up to a relationship with you.

You had met Steven first, dated Steven first, and then met Jake and Marc along the way. The relationship with Jake blossomed easily, but Marc still had walls he had built standing steady, that he wasn’t ready to break down yet. For a while even, you weren’t sure he liked you. After anxieties about it were aired out, Marc reassured you he did like you, he was “just shit at showing it” as he had put it. He hadn’t wanted to get close, mess things up with you and risk everything Steven and Jake had with you. That was the turning point for you and Marc’s relationship.

You thought it was behind you, until you noticed Marc’s odd behavior one day.

“Marc, baby, are you alright?” You asked him, leaning against the kitchen counter as he washed dishes.

“Hm?” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, nodding as he kept his attention mostly on the pan he was scrubbing. “Yea, fine, why’d you ask?”

“Because you’ve been scrubbing that pan for about 10 minutes now. I think it’s clean.” You smiled softly, as his brow scrunched when he realized.

“Fine… yeah. I just… you know I love you?” He finished his sentence more like a question.

“Of course I know. I love you too.” You moved closer to him, putting a hand on his cheek to look him in the eyes. “What brought this about?”

“I don’t… I don’t say it enough. When we met you weren’t even sure I liked you, and now I don’t even say I love you as often as Jake or Steven do. So I just…” Marc lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand to his hair, pushing his curls out of his face as he steps away from you. You give him his space, you know when he needs it. To work out emotions without feeling suffocated or closed in.

“Just thought maybe you weren’t sure again.”

Marc avoids looking directly at your face as you look at his. You understand him, more than you probably know, which scares Marc. Not in a bad way, but scares him in a way he can’t believe there was someone out there who could.

Which is why what you say shouldn’t surprise him, but it does anyway.

“You don’t have to say it in the same way Steven or Jake do for me to know.” You start softly. “You have a different way of showing it, than they do.”

Marc’s eyebrows furrow, even more than the wrinkled brow he usually has.

He can only describe the look on your face that you give him as adoring, as you continue.

“The days that you front, you’re always up before me. Whether you’re an early riser or you never really fell asleep that night - you know exactly how to make my coffee in the morning and I always wake up to a cup made the way I like sitting on the counter waiting for me.

“I also know that it isn’t Jake who had my car’s oil changed, or the tires rotated a couple weeks ago.”

Marc shrugs at that one, mumbles something that you think is “That’s not a big deal.”

As you tell him all this, you can’t believe it took you this long to realize that Marc’s love language was acts of service. Because of course it was. Marc, the giver. Marc, who always felt he needed to prove his worth and make up for sins of his past, by any means necessary. Your Marc, who did so much for you without expecting a ‘thank you’ because that was how he showed he cared.

You kept going with more examples.

“Last week I forgot my umbrella and my lunch in the apartment and you came all the way to my job to drop them off for me.” You wrap your arms around Marc’s waist at this, resting your head against him in a hug.

“Or, when it’s cold, you always turn my heated blanket on the bed while I’m doing my night time routine, so that the bed is nice and warm by the time I climb in. And when -“ You could keep going, listing the things you notice Marc does for you, but he stops you with flushed cheeks.

“Okay, okay, I get it. I do a lot for you.” He chuckles, rolling his eyes playfully as he wraps his arms around you to return the hug. “I like taking care of you.”

“You take care of me because you love me.”

Marc nods, kissing your forehead. “Yeah, I do. I’m just sorry I don’t say it more.”

“I don’t need you to. It’s nice to hear, but I still know it. You show me every day.” You smile, leaning in to give him a kiss, which Marc gratefully returns.

“And I’ll continue to show you every day, until you get tired of me.”

“I’d never get tired of you, baby. You, Jake and Steven are all stuck with me.”

Marc laughs. “Stuck with you? Making it sound like that’s a bad thing. Honey, I think you’re the one ‘stuck’ with the three of us.”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

#marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockely x reader #moon knight system x reader #moonknight x reader

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girlgenius1111 · 4 months

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i'll never leave. never mind.

alexia putellas x reader after the loss of her brother, r tries to deal with her world collapsing. alexia is determined to help her through it, but r doesn't want to drag her girlfriend down with her. some things in life are just too hard to overcome; for r, will this be one of them? angst + fluff. mentions of suicide. basically, a long fic about grief and healing. this is so sad and so long im so sorry. fluff throughout though, because i'm me.

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The phone was staring at you, you were sure. Or maybe it was the missed calls from your girlfriend, the dry texts you’d sent her that gave no indication of how you were feeling. You were at the airport, flying back to Barcelona, and Alexia didn’t even know you were coming. Originally, you weren’t supposed to fly back until the weekend. You’d moved your flight up, though, beyond desperate to see Alexia.

Your perfect girlfriend, who had been checking on you everyday. Who had offered to come to you if you needed her, no matter what it took. You’d been distant, and you knew it. From the moment you’d heard, you’d pulled away from Alexia. It wasn’t what she’d wanted, and it wasn’t what you’d wanted, but there was no choice for you. Everyone else had to come first.

You were putting everyone else first when you played in the second leg against Chelsea, hours after finding out that your brother was dead. When you flew home right from London, but didn’t let Alexia go with you. When you’d insisted she return to Barcelona with the team, that she couldn’t come with you. When you only called her to say a brief goodnight, only returned her texts to assure her that you were, in fact, okay.

It would have made her insecure, maybe, if she hadn’t been so sure of what you were doing. Alexia had always been your safe place. The person you were always comfortable crying in front of, the person you told your biggest fears too. Avoiding her meant avoiding feeling.

You were the oldest, and with that came the responsibility to be strong. For your parents and your other siblings, you had to be the strong one. Alexia had heard from your sister, Bella, that you’d taken care of everything related to the funeral. You’d jumped head first into planning it, barely taking a second to greet your family before you were asking about flower arrangements and eulogies. Bella told Alexia that she hadn’t seen you shed a single tear. You were a shell of yourself, yes, but it was numbness that you radiated, not pain. Not the agony she was sure you were feeling. You had decided that you had to be strong for everyone else, and that meant not feeling any of it. That meant pushing down every emotion, no matter what it took.

And if anyone understood that, it was Alexia. She had done the same thing when she’d lost her father; held everything together for her sister and her mother. She pretended she was fine. Alexia had held her sister as she cried, and helped her mother cook and clean and plan. She’d been the oldest, and she’d been strong too.

Alexia had lasted a few weeks, pretending she was okay. Before every emotion she’d ignored spilled out and she broke. Completely and entirely broke. And she knew, very well, that you were headed for the same thing if you didn’t stop pushing everything down.

There wasn’t much she could do from hundreds of miles away, though, so she did her best to text and call you and remind you, every second of every day, that she loved you more than anything. And that she was only a phone call away. Even if you hadn’t been very receptive to these reminders, you’d noticed, and she knew you appreciated them.

Now, though, sitting in the bustling airport, you were afraid to go home. Afraid to face your girlfriend, whom you’d been practically ignoring. Afraid to face the reality that was regular life without your brother. Afraid to face every dark and painful emotion you’d been ignoring. You pushed and pushed and pushed them away, until you couldn’t really even remember what it felt like to feel. You were numb. And you weren’t sure if you wanted to stay that way or not.

What you did want, though, was Alexia. You wanted her to hold you, wanted to hear her heartbeat in your ear. Feel her kiss the top of your head, and scratch your back as you fell asleep. So, it was to Barcelona, to home, to Alexia, that you went, 5 full days before you were supposed to. You just needed to work up the guts to tell Alexia that you were coming home.

------

Alexia made up her mind to fly to you half a dozen times, only to talk herself out of it. She had no idea how you were feeling, how you were doing, other than the very unsettling updates she’d gotten from your sister. She ached to hear your voice and feel your warm body pressed against hers; she was miserable.

The team had just arrived at Johan for the midweek match when you finally did call her. Shushing everyone dramatically, Alexia rushed out of the room and answered.

“Hi Ale.”

“Mi amor.” She sighed, deeply relieved to hear the sound of your voice. You sounded numb and completely unlike yourself, but you were calling her all the same.

“Hi.” You repeated, a bit weakly. “I just wanted to wish you good luck.”

Alexia wanted to cry. Your brother's funeral had been today, and still you remembered to call her and wish her luck on a match she was a bit nervous for. “Thank you, amor. How are you? Are you sure I can’t come today after the match? You are there through this weekend, I want to be with you.”

“No, no it’s okay. I’m at the airport right now, actually. I’ll be home tonight.” You admitted, nibbling on your lip anxiously.

“You are coming home today? I thought you were going to stay with your family for a bit longer.” Alexia was thrilled, honestly, but still confused.

“I was, but I changed my mind. It’s been crazy here, I just want to come home.”

“Okay, amor. Whatever you want. Whatever you need. When do you land?”

“Right before the match ends. I’ll probably beat you home.”

“I am excited to see you, bebe. I have missed you so much.” The captain told you gently, using the soft voice that she really only used with you. One that was dripping with love.

“I’ve missed you too.” You whispered. “You have no idea.”

“Soon though. Soon. I will come home straight after the game.”

“Thank you, Alexia. For being so understanding and patient, I’m sorry I’ve been weird this week-”

“Do not apologize, please. You have nothing to be sorry for.” She paused, hearing shouts of her name coming from the other room. “I have to go, but I’ll see you soon. So soon.”

“Bye, Ale. I love you, good luck today.”

After hanging up, Alexia knew she had to get her head in the game. There was a match to play, a team that needed her. And even if her heart was boarding a plane in England, getting ready to fly back to her, she had to focus. For the next few hours at least.

------

Alexia was barely through the door before you were crashing into her arms, absolutely launching your body at hers. You were trembling, trying to contain the whine that came from deep in your throat at the feeling of being safe again. The blonde grabbed you fiercely, pulling you into her arms and squeezing tight. You were lifted off the ground briefly, but you barely even registered it, gripping the blonde’s sweatshirt tight in your fists and shoving your face into her shoulder.

Alexia had been trying not to be worried this whole time that you didn’t need her, didn’t want her. She knew, logically, why you were acting the way you had been, but she wasn’t immune to doubts and insecurity. Now, though, with you holding onto her for dear life, she knew she’d been ridiculous.

“My girl. I’ve got you.” She whispered, feeling you nod into her chest. After a minute, Alexia eased you back and took your face in between her hands, trying to get a good look at your face. You looked like you’d lost weight, and like you hadn’t slept in days. Your eyes were cloudy, gazing up at Alexia like you barely knew she was there. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with you now that she had you back with her. You looked so unlike yourself, so out of it. Alexia didn't think she could get anymore worried, but that was before she’d seen you.

You weren’t crying, just shaking. Just holding onto Alexia like you were afraid if you let go, she’d disappear.

“I saw your goal.” You said after a minute.

Alexia smiled gently at you, pushing a strand of hair away from your face. “It was for you, and for Wesley.”

You flinched at your brother’s name. At the reminder of what had happened. Any minute you could go without thinking about it was a victory, but when you inevitably remembered, it felt like the weight of the world settled back on your shoulders.

And it was this weight that prompted what you said next.

“I think we should take a break.” You said blankly, avoiding the midfielder’s eyes at all cost.

Alexia was stunned into silence for a minute. A different day, a different Alexia, and she would have shut down. Taken your statement as rejection, and left the apartment without another word. But everything about your body language was screaming to her that you didn't mean it. Still gripping her shirt tightly in your hands, still trembling in her arms, you seemed terrified to allow your girlfriend to help you, and terrified to allow her to go.

“No.” Alexia said simply.

“Ale, I can’t do this. I have to deal with this, I don’t- I can’t. Everything is so messed up now. I don’t know what to do, but I can’t put you through this, too. I can’t make you figure this out with me. We should just take a few weeks apart, so I can pull myself together, and you don’t have to worry-”

“Stop. No. You are not putting me through anything. I am committed to you, I love you, and I am not going anywhere. Especially not now. If you think I am going to let you go through this alone, you are crazy. You need me, how could I go?”

“I… I don’t need you.” You said weakly, as if you hadn’t tackled her in a hug the moment you saw her, as if you weren’t inching closer to her every passing second, like the small amount of space in between the two of you was too much.

“You do. And I know that is scary, but I am not leaving. Let me be here. Please.”

“I’m not… I’m not okay.” It was barely more than a mumble, but Alexia nodded sympathetically.

“You are not okay. You don’t need to protect me from that, amor. I can be strong for the both of us. I can be whatever you need me to be.”

A small whimper fell from your lips before you could stop it. There wasn’t any fight left in you, now, not when Alexia was saying all the right things. “You’re sure?”

Alexia pulled you in once more, and tucked your head under her chin. “I am sure.”

“Okay.” You allowed, leaning back after a moment to place a very gentle kiss on your girlfriend’s cheek.

Taking your face into her hands, Alexia frowned, her thumb tracing over the dark circles under your eyes. You looked shattered, drained completely of energy. “Amor…”

“Can we go to sleep, Ale? I’m really tired.”

Alexia could tell. “Of course. Did you not sleep well while you were gone?”

“No.” You sighed, before hesitantly continuing. “I barely slept, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to now, but I always sleep better next to you, but I don’t know if you’re tired…”

Alexia nodded enthusiastically. “Whatever you need, amor. You have to eat something first, though.”

You looked away from her. “I ate at the airport.”

Alexia hummed, a sinking feeling growing in her chest. “No you didn’t. Do you want to shower while I make you something?”

You nodded begrudgingly, and Alexia kissed you on the cheek before sending you on your way.

Dinner was a quiet affair. You came out of the shower looking just as you had before. Numb, broken. Alexia had made your favorite for dinner, and you ate as much as you could, which really, wasn’t much at all. The blonde was just glad to get some food into you. You didn’t really remember Alexia pulling you into the bedroom, or tugging on pajamas that were definitely hers. Suddenly, you were in your bed, head resting against Alexia’s chest, her heartbeat steady in your ear. Suddenly, you were safe again. Safe to feel, safe to hurt. You’d just spent so much time not doing either of those things, that you weren’t really sure how to access the emotions you’d spent days repressing. All you knew was that you didn’t want Alexia to ever let you go.

“Mi amor, do you want to talk?” Her chest vibrated under you as you spoke.

“About what?”

“How you are feeling?”

“I’m… coping.” You told her weakly. Alexia’s hand found its way into your hair, carefully running through the wet strands. You sighed quietly, snuggling in closer to your girlfriend, even as you knew she was pushing you to have a conversation you didn't really want to partake in.

“I do not think you are. I talked to your sister, she is worried about you. I am too. Please, just talk to me.”

You turned slightly, hiding your face more in Alexia’s shirt. “I don’t know what to say, Ale. I don’t know where to start.”

She hummed sympathetically. “Can I ask you questions? Would that be easier?”

And you didn’t want to answer questions, but you knew it was best if you opened up to Alexia, even if it was just a little, so you nodded.

“How was your flight?” She asked. You cracked a smile at her question, clocking that she was starting off simple to ease you into talking to her. She knew you so well, sometimes it felt like she knew you better than you knew yourself.

“Alright. I slept for most of it, but I watched some of the match.”

For the next few minutes, Alexia asked questions about your trip, about your sister’s new haircut that you hated. You wilted slightly when she asked about your other brother, and she picked up on that right away.

“Why did you come home so early?” She wondered. You inhaled deeply, rolling off of her and onto your back. You stared at the ceiling, knowing that the truth would make her angry. Not at you, but angry nonetheless, and you didn’t want that.

“I missed you a lot.” You murmured, refusing to look her in the eye, even as she rolled onto her side and propped herself up on her elbow facing you.

“I missed you, too. Every second you were gone.” She promised, gently removing a stray eyelash from the side of your face and holding it out for you to blow away. It was an adorable habit she had, always insisting you make a wish. “There is more, though.”

There was no question in Alexia’s words and you sighed again, nodding slowly. “I got into an argument with Bennett. About Wes. We weren’t really speaking to each other after the funeral and it was so tense in the house, I just had to get out of there.”

“What did you fight about?”

A tear slid down your face as you shook your head. “I don’t want to talk about that, please.”

“Okay bebé.” Alexia wiped the tear away with her thumb, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of your eye, as if to soothe your tears. She pulled the covers of the bed higher, desperately trying to make you more comfortable as you suddenly looked to be in agonizing pain. “Did your parents and your sister choose sides?”

Alexia knew your family well enough to know how an argument would go. Normally, your sister and your older brother would easily agree with your parents, regardless of the topic. And your parents always took their side. Bella and Bennett were twins, the golden children, and it was clear for anyone to see that your parents treated them differently. Without Wes around to mediate, Alexia was sure that you would have been all alone in whatever you were fighting about, and she knew how much you despised conflict.

Bottom lip wobbling pathetically, you nodded. “Yeah. They all agreed with Ben. None of them… none of them were really talking to me when I left. Bella felt bad, but my parents didn’t say goodbye when I left for the airport.”

The midfielders stomach twisted at that, knowing how desperately you sought your parents praise and approval. For them to let you fly back across the continent without even a goodbye, after losing their son, after you lost your brother, was cruel. “I am so sorry, amor. That isn’t fair.”

“I feel like everyone is mad at me.” You whispered, linking your fingers with Alexia’s.

“I am not mad at you.” Alexia replied, leaning in against to kiss the corner of your mouth. “You are my favorite person in the world, and I am not mad at you. Does that feel better?”

“Yeah.” You told her, finally shifting to look up at her face. Another few tears slipped down your face and you took a shaky breath. “I want this to all be some horrible nightmare. I want to wake up and find out he’s still here. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

“What do you feel?” Alexia asked again, still not letting a single tear make it off your face before she swiped it away.

This time, you answered her.

“Everything hurts.”

“I know.” She whispered, doing her best to pull you closer into her body.

“I feel like… like I'm broken. Like I'm suffocating. Like I will never feel whole again. I am empty. And I am so fucking sad but I can’t feel it. I can’t make myself feel it. It’s there, locked away, and all I can do is sit. And think. And wish I was dead instead of him.” The last sentence was barely audible, but Alexia heard it clearly.

She shut her eyes tightly, wrapping her arms tighter around you, as if that would make it better. “Please do not say that.”

“He called me. That night, he called me and I declined the call. Because we had a match the next day. And now he's dead, and it is my fault.” You admitted, feeling simultaneously like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders at your confession, but another weight added on with the knowledge that your girlfriend would not know exactly what kind of awful person you were.

But Alexia was Alexia, and she didn’t even flinch at your words. She simply pressed a kiss to your temple and said the words you’d been aching to hear. Words you wanted to believe, words you were scared you never would. “You could not have known, that is not your fault.”

You looked up at her, trying to gauge the sincerity of what she was saying, and found only overwhelming love in her eyes. It was too much. It was love you didn’t deserve. Not when this was your fault. You had never been more convinced in your life than in that moment that you didn't’ deserve Alexia. Her love, her care, her affection, her perfection. She was wholly too good for you. “I don’t even know how you can look at me right now, Ale.”

Your girlfriend shook her head, stunned that you would think such a thing. That you would expect her to blame you for something that was not your fault. Her touch was delicate as she pushed a lock of hair away from your forehead and it was too kind. Too soft.

You yanked yourself out of her arms, even if it felt like you were ripping your heart out of your chest in doing so. With no destination in mind, you walked away from the bed and tried to leave the room, but Alexia grabbed you first.

“My love.” She murmured, drawing you into a tight embrace. Alexia very rarely used terms of endearment for you that weren’t in spanish. She only did so when she wanted you to hear what she was saying, clearly. Her hands were insistent on your face, tilting it up so that you could only look into her warm hazel eyes. There was nothing but adoration on her face, and you were sure you didn’t deserve it. “I can look at you because I love you. More than anything in this world, I love you. What happened is not your fault.”

You shook your head pathetically, but your movements were stilled by Alexia’s strong hands on either side of your face.

“It is not your fault.” She insisted. “And I cannot imagine what you are feeling right now, but I will always be kind to you. Even when you are not being kind to yourself.”

You shut your eyes tightly, desperately trying not to cry. Pitching forward, you pressed your face into Ale’s chest, unable to resist the peace and comfort that she provided. She shushed you softly, raining kisses down onto the top of your head.

“It hurts, Ale,” you whimpered.

Alexia held you tighter.

“I know, bebé. This is so hard, mi amor, I know that. But you will get through this. We will get through this together. I will not leave your side for a single second, do you understand? I love you. You are going to be okay.”

Without even being aware that Alexia was moving you, you suddenly found yourself back on the bed, sitting sideways across your girlfriend’s lap. She was always so gentle. So kind. And you didn’t deserve it, you knew that. But the thought of having to go through this without her was overwhelming, devastating. You fought against the urge to cry, terrified that if you let go, she would leave.

“I can’t do this without you,” you whimpered, holding tightly to her shirt and pressing your face into her neck. You could feel her nod from there, and you settled a bit, especially as her grip on you was tight and unrelenting.

“You will not have to. I am here with you, mi amor. Right here with you.” She promised, shifting to wrap one arm around your midsection and cradle the back of your head with her other hand.

“I-I… I can’t,” you stuttered, trying to swallow the lump in your throat even as it constricted tighter and tighter and you knew your efforts would be futile.

“It is alright, bebé. You can cry. I am right here.” She affirmed again.

A choked sob fell from your lips as you finally gave in, as the tidal wave of emotion you’d been running from finally caught up to you. It dragged you under the surface over and over, until you could hardly breathe. Until there was nothing else in the room with you but despair.

You cried for your brother, for who he was and who he would never become.

For yourself. Because you didn’t answer the phone, but also because you knew deep in your soul that answering would not have changed anything.

You cried for your siblings, for your parents. Who were so destroyed that they sought out something, someone to blame. Even though they landed on you, even though you needed them. They needed you, but differently. They needed to blame you. It had to be your fault, or it might be theirs.

You cried for Alexia, because you knew you had put her through hell the past week, and it would only continue. You cried because she was perfect and because you loved her. You cried because she loved you.

You cried for the first time since hearing about what had happened. You cried for sweet, sweet Wes, who deserved better from everyone in his life. You included, but not only you.

You cried because it felt like a part of you was dead, too.

The part that was still alive, though, forced you to listen. To Alexia’s steady heartbeat, and the soft words she whispered. To her reminders to breathe, and her reminders that she loved you. If what you were feeling was a tsunami, Alexia was the high ground that would keep you safe. Keep you alive.

You clung to that safety, that security. Without her, you might have drifted off. Not to sleep, but away. You’d never have to find out, though. Because Alexia wasn’t going anywhere. Not when you cried, not when you couldn’t breathe, not when you couldn’t speak. She’d bring you back to her every time. Because she loved you. And it didn't matter that you weren’t sure you were deserving of her love. She loved you anyway.

Once your cries had slowed to pitiful sniffles, the midfielder laid you down carefully next to her, curling her body around yours. You were engulfed in her arms, and the soft blankets on the bed, a safe little cocoon. Alexia couldn’t tell if your eyes were half shut because they were swollen from crying, or if you were exhausted. Probably both.

Her finger traced little shapes over your cheek as she whispered to you. “Sleep mi amor. I’ve got you. You are safe, and you are okay. Just relax.”

Her eyes were locked on yours, encouraging you to give in and let yourself rest. Her words, too, felt like a very convincing drug, and you were letting your cheek rest against her chest before you knew it, letting the repetitive beating of her heart lull you to sleep.

-----

You slept solidly, for the first time in a week. Straight through the night, no interruptions. Well, until morning came, and then you were awoken by quiet crunching. You stretched a bit, not yet ready to open your eyes, but aware from the amount of sun in the room that it was late morning. The crunching stopped as soon as you moved, and you quickly realized you were not curled up against your girlfriend, like you normally slept. Rolling over, you squinted your eyes open and saw Alexia looking guilty down at you, a handful of granola in her hand frozen halfway to her mouth.

“Sorry.” She whispered.

It wasn’t really that funny, but you found yourself giggling to yourself, until Alexia started laughing with you.

“You had to get the crunchiest thing in the kitchen?” You questioned, barely getting the words out through your laughter.. She shook her head at you, putting the bag of granola down and pulling you into her arms.

“I was going for what would leave the most crumbs in the sheets.” She said cheerily, planting a soft kiss on your cheek.

“You are so dumb.” You chuckled, sighing comfortably back in her embrace.

“I am smart.” Alexia declared, before she turned slightly serious. “You can sleep more if you need, bonita. It is 11:30, but we do not have anything we need to do today.”

“No, it’s okay. I should get up.”

“Thank god. I am starving and you make better breakfast than I do.”

You fought a smile, finding the effort she was putting in to make you laugh quite endearing. “You could have woken me if you were hungry. Or gone and gotten something to eat.” Your attempt to slide out of bed was halted by Alexia’s grip tightening around you, her voice soft in your ear.

“No, you needed to rest. And you were holding on to me in your sleep. I did not want to leave you for long.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“No, no apologies. You need me, I am here. If you need me to lay in bed and cuddle you for half the day, I am more than happy to do that.” She said it so earnestly, you almost felt like crying.

“Ale, you know I love you, right? More than anything?”

She nodded, shifting you in her arms to be able to press her forehead to yours. “And I love you. More than all the stars in the sky.”

You gave her a watery smile, gently pecking her lips with yours. “That is very corny.”

“There are no ways to tell you how I love you without being corny. You will just have to get used to it.” Alexia whispered, connecting her lips with yours again. It was soft and loving, reflecting everything she’d just said to you. Alexia always made sure to tell you what she felt about you, as well as show you. She was perfect in that way.

-----

Your words from the previous evening hung between you both like a dark cloud. Alexia was doing her best to treat you normally, you could tell. She didn’t want to hover, but she was filled to the brim with worry for you. So, you took the first step, and brought it up while the two of you were making breakfast.

Clearing your throat, you focused on carefully cutting up the fruit, sure that if you kept yourself slightly distracted, you wouldn’t get too upset.“Last night. What I said…”

“What did you say?” Alexia asked casually, though you could feel her eyes burning into the back of your head from the opposite counter.

“I said that I wished I-”

“I remember.” Alexia cut you off not unkindly, abandoning the coffee she was making in favor of walking to you and wrapping her arms around your abdomen. Her chin perched itself on your shoulder, and you leaned back into her, letting your eyes flutter shut.

“I didn’t mean it.” You told her. Her silence told you she was skeptical, and she should have been. “Okay, I did mean it. But I would never do anything stupid, okay? I would never… do what he did. I am upset and I am hurting but I know… know that I can be okay again. I think.”

All the tension left your girlfriend’s body, and you were only aware of how stressed she had been once she relaxed. She sagged into you, burying her face in the crook of your neck and nodding rapidly. “Good. Good. I love you. So much.” You moved to return to chopping your fruit, but the blonde took the knife from your hand and set it down, before spinning you to face her. She was completely serious as she addressed you. “If you ever felt like that,”

“Alexia, I am not going to...” You let the sentence fade out, inhaling deeply again before you continued. “I wouldn’t do that to you, or to my family, I wouldn’t be that-”

You cut yourself off, shaking your head. Alexia didn’t let you pull out of her grasp like you wanted to, studying your face closely.

“You are angry with him, sí?” Alexia asked carefully. She was too perceptive for her own good sometimes.

“Yeah.” Admitting it felt like a betrayal.

“That is okay. You can be angry.”

You weren’t convinced and Alexia ached to make you understand that your feelings, whatever they were, were valid. Still, she knew when to push and when not to, so she let it go. For now.

With a soft kiss on your lips, she nudged you back to the fruit, whining dramatically that she was hungry. Alexia could always make a situation light hearted again with just a few words, and that was something you realized you hadn’t appreciated enough until now.

-----

Alexia’s brain hurt from thinking. Around and around in circles, wishing she could convince herself she was wrong about the conclusion she had come to. You were sitting in between her legs on the couch, half watching the football match on TV, half enjoying the way Alexia’s fingers played with your hair. She couldn’t stop thinking about the fight you’d said you had with your brother, and what it could have been about. How bad it could have been for you to leave home early, for your parents not to be speaking to you, especially after everything that had happened. Alexia thought and thought and thought until she couldn’t take it anymore, and then she just asked.

“Can I ask you something?” The blonde murmured, finishing the braid she was twisting your hair into, only to take it out and start again.

Her hands playing with your hair was ridiculously soothing, and you only hummed in response.

“The fight with your brother? Was that about Wes calling you that night?”

All the work Alexia had done to get your body to relax was undone as soon as the words left her mouth. Your shoulders scrunched back up, and you went back to picking at your cuticles. You’d already made a few nails bleed this morning, and your girlfriend sighed internally as you another one began to bleed, too.

“Yes. I didn’t tell them right away, but my dad went through Wes’ phone and that was the last call he made.” Your voice broke, and Alexia abandoned your hair in favor of pulling you into her, your back to her front. “He asked me about it, and Ben just… freaked out.”

“What did Bennett say?” She wondered, pulling each of your hands into hers in an effort to stop the damage you were inflicting on your nails.

“He said I should have answered. That is wasn’t enough that I left the country for football, left Wes behind, but I ignored his call even though family is supposed to be the most important thing. And that he blames me. He said that if I had answered, Wes would be alive.”

“What did your parents say?”

“They agreed with Ben. Said I shouldn’t come home until I decide to start putting my family first. My dad said…” Again, you trailed off. This time, it was because you weren’t sure you had the strength to repeat what had been said to you.

“Tell me, baby.” Alexia encouraged, hoping that if she held you tight enough, the pain would leave you alone for a while.

“He said it was my fault his son was dead, and if there was any justice in the world it would have been me instead.” You whispered, Alexia’s sharp intake of air closely mirroring what your reaction had been. “I moved my flight after that. I still had to go to the funeral, but I wanted to leave as soon as I could.”

It was overwhelming, everything your girlfriend was feeling, and she couldn’t even imagine the turmoil you were in at the moment. The urge to call your father and give him a piece of her mind was almost as strong as the urge to wrap you up in a blanket against her and never let anyone hurt you again. Almost.

“Mi preciosa, he is wrong. That is not true. Your brother never would have wanted you to blame yourself. He loved you so much, and he knew you loved him too. He would be angry if he knew how everyone was treating you. Amor, you know this, right?”

Your shrug was not good enough for Alexia.

“This was not your fault. It is not on you. You are a good person, and an incredible sister. Your parents and Bennett, they are hurting, but they should not have said the things they have said. It hurts them that this happened out of their control, and they just want someone to blame. It is not fair that it is you, amor, but they are wrong. They are so, so wrong.”

“I want to believe that.” You replied, hanging onto her every word even if it felt like everything she was saying was much too generous to you. “I just don’t know how to.”

Alexia nodded, her lips finding your cheek in a gentle peck. “I will remind you every day, until you believe it. You are good, you are loved, and this was not your fault.” She repeated herself, and you shut your eyes, trying to force the reassurances to seep into your brain, and hopefully stay there.

When you opened your eyes again, turning slightly so you could see her face, you believed her just a bit more. Bit by bit, Alexia would convince you. Just like she’d convinced you that she loved you. Like she’d convinced you to let her start putting some of her clothes in your half of the closet, and that cappuccinos were better than lattes. She was persuasive, your Alexia. Unrelenting, determined, and persuasive. When she set her mind on something, she didn’t give up. It was this tendency of hers that had you almost convinced that you’d survive this. Even if it was the hardest thing you’d ever do, Alexia would get you through it.

“What have I done to deserve you?” You murmured, looking up at her with something close to awe on your face.

“You did not have to do anything. I love you. You deserve to be loved.” Alexia replied easily. She didn’t think twice before she spoke. It wouldn’t ever not surprise you how easily, how fully, Alexia loved you, and that was okay. You never wanted Alexia’s love to grow mundane, or unsurprising. You wanted the force of her love to always knock you off your feet, just a little. Because you were pretty sure the force of your love for her would always be overpowering, too.

-------

this was so dialogue heavy and im not sure i don't think it's awful and too depressing, so thanks for sticking around to the end if you did :)

not... opposed to a part 2 honestly. i have a little part written about alexia trying to deal with r's grief, while also finding it to be such a harsh reminder of her own experience. but i'm not sure what else it would be, or if anyone would want it anyway so. give me your thoughts :)

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso one shot #alexia putellas x reader

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cordeliawhohung · 3 months

Text

In Limbo [Chapter 7]

mafia!141 masterlist | In Limbo masterlist | general masterlist | taglist | playlist mafia!Simon Riley x fem!Reader

another deal. another oath.

cw: illnesses and symptoms, PTSD, allusions to past non-con situations

wc: 4.4k

Marco got you sick.

Building pressure throbs between your eyes, ravaging your sinuses with tightly packed snot. It moves to your ears and throat until you’re constantly hacking up phlegm and the tinnitus in your ears is so bad you can hardly hear patrons over the idle chatter in the restaurant. Of course, there is no evidence to prove that Marco was the one to get you sick. There are countless people who flood through the door of Sapori with empty stomachs and noses running from the bitter, humid cold of London. Anyone could have gotten you sick.

Yet, over the last week, no one has gotten as close to you as he did. Fingers digging into your arm. Leg pinning yours. Gentle hand — the hand of a killer, his hand, that brutal fucking hand — caressing the side of your face, holding you hostage. Taking and taking and taking, tongue shoving past your teeth —

Blurry eyes glance away from the assaulting brightness of your phone screen. Sapori is quiet; it always is this early. Early for late night dining, anyway. Half past ten, you’ve spent most of the morning cleaning every single corner of that building, but got dizzy after an hour, so you’ve taken refuge at a lonely table. The dust and carcinogens you’ve inhaled in the process hasn’t done anything to ease your symptoms, but you can’t afford to stay idle. There are numbers to be crunched, cash to be earned, and debts to be paid.

Which brings you back to your phone.

Having only graduated school without any sort of higher education, your options for jobs are limited, but only working at Sapori isn’t cutting it anymore. You can either pick up more hours like you have been this past week, or attempt to find a job that’ll pay slightly more and help cover the difference in what you now owe Marco every month. You’ve been staring at hourly wages for so long you feel your eyes begin to cross, and you don’t exactly like what you’re seeing. An early morning librarian job for £11.44, coffee shop barista for £12… nothing salary. Nothing that will save you.

“Job hunting?”

The ringing in your ears suffocates your senses so viciously that you didn’t hear Bruce’s footsteps approach, and you stare up at him like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Nothing like looking at other jobs with your boss staring over your shoulder. The screen goes black, and you choke out a sheepish smile through the snot leaking into the back of your throat.

“Just for a second job. Part-time,” you explain. Your voice sounds louder than his, ears too clogged to properly receive soundwaves. “Don’t worry, I’m not leaving any time soon.”

Bruce’s mellifluous laugh is the first thing that’s warmed your soul all week. It’s contagious. The smallest of smiles flitters across your lips as he carefully takes the seat across from you, large bowl in either hand.

“Ah, I would not be upset if you left. Sad, yes, but everyone finds their way out of here eventually,” Bruce assures. His accent is odd. Immigrating from Italy at a young age, his vernacular is a mash of proper English, Italian, and what you’re guessing is Italian-American slang. Or, at least, that’s what you’ve been able to gather from the movies, anyway. “You are a hard worker. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

A wave of tears build up behind your eyes at his words, and they’re held back by a flimsy, half-formed dam. Your emotions have been strewn about in your brain, cluttered, sticking halfway out of folders and filing cabinets. It’s hard to shove them back when you can hardly shut the drawers.

“Here,” he continues as he pushes the bowl toward you. The hard lines of his face soften as he watches you curiously peer at the contents; tiny bits of pasta mixed with some sort of thickened broth. “Pastina. Good for your health. You sound sick. Eat up and go home.”

Your hand is hardly gripping the spoon when he says that, and it nearly slips out of your grasp. Mouth half open, you stare at Bruce with wide eyes. There’s not a single hint of maliciousness on his face — his eyes twinkle bright as he runs a hand over his balding head. Though he appears happy — almost proud of himself, even — you feel nothing of the sort.

“I can’t go home,” you try to argue, but he quickly cuts you off with a wave of his hand.

“You’re sick, and you’ve been working too much. You’ve worked more hours than I have this week, and I can’t allow that. Rest, before you really make yourself sick,” he dismisses.

Swallowing thickly, you attempt fruitlessly to hide the tremor in your voice. “But I… need the money.”

It’s all you can think about. Money. Numbers. This vicious counting game. How you’re going to cough up the extra cash for Marco and still have enough to feed yourself. To do anything. To live. Or worse — what happens to you if you can’t make enough? How many more times is he going to change your payments based on stupid mistakes that aren’t your fault?

Waving your words off again, Bruce stands to his feet, hands pressing flat against the swell of his stomach as he does so, like the jovial chuckle he gives you needs support. “I’ll give you a raise, then.”

Jarred, the side of your spoon taps against the edge of your bowl as you follow him with your eyes. “A raise?”

“Twenty,” he replies. “Should be enough. I’m tired of you working so many hours. You need to go out and be a kid before you get old and useless like me. Pick up a hobby. Hang out with that guy Bee won’t stop talking about. He seems nice, hm? I just want you to be happy, kid. Now, eat up. You’ll feel better.”

Bruce vanishes just as quickly as he appeared, leaving you alone with a bowl of pastina and your thoughts. It’s good that he did, because if you tried to thank him for such a gracious gesture, you’d certainly crumble. Perhaps he knew that, too.

In a poor attempt to save yourself from crying in public, you quickly turn your attention to the food Bruce lovingly whipped up for you. Steam wafts and twirls upwards, hitting your face in a fine mist. Its flavor is difficult to discern with how congested you are, but the rich texture is enough to satiate the hole in your stomach. It always seems ever growing these days. A barren cavern; a void that wants to swallow you from the inside out. Not ravenous, just gutting.

Maybe one day it will fill itself up again.

For now, it grows. Slowly. Insidiously. Taking bits of you and shredding them into ribbons. They trail behind you, fluttering in the wind as you walk up the steps to your flat where they roll down the stairs. It would look beautiful, if it wasn’t for the fact that it was you. You, with quiescent feet trudging through the door. You, with the fatigued body that can hardly dress herself into pajamas. You, who curls into bed, a motherless child — a creature waiting to vanish.

Too broke to afford cold medicine to aid you with your congestion, it takes time before you can finally fall asleep. When you do, it grips you like a vice, pinning you down, spoon feeding you dreams you haven’t been able to see with the hours you’ve been pulling at work. They’re heavy, holding your head under water, threatening to suffocate you; but you need the rest.

You dream of your mother. She’s folding your school uniform in the laundromat you use as common ground to meet Marco at. Washers swish water in their drums as dryer alarms chime the end of their cycle in terrible cacophony. Pristine white blouses become ruined with burgundy — her hands are soiled; covered with blood. She folds, and you sit and watch her, hands tangled in string, fingers unable to move. Each fold is done with purpose. Crisp. Effortless. Blouses, skirts, and ties stack up taller than her on the table, threatening to scrape the ceiling above.

“Throw them away,” you say, voice too weak.

She does not look at you.

“They’re ruined. Throw them away,” you say.

She does not look at you.

“Did I ruin them?” she asks.

You blink. The string around your fingers tightens. You feel them turn cold as ice. Lack of blood. Festering wounds. Irritated nail beds. An extension of the sins trapped inside of you.

“It wasn’t you,” you say.

Finally, she looks at you, and you flinch.

“Who was it?”

Fibers snap, and the string falls free from your hands. Fluttering, dainty; it lays on the floor in generous spirals. There’s so much blood on her shirt. You can’t look away.

“You already know,” you choke out.

She smiles. A toothy grin. Teeth perfect and whole, lips curling, but it’s not real. Her eyes are cloudy — her eyes are dead. Her smile is dead. Your mother is dead. Cold skin, colder gaze, coagulated blood on linoleum. Rotting. You still smell it: stale blood, cologne, and mint. It follows you everywhere.

He follows you everywhere.

Your phone is under your pillow when you receive a call. Vibrations rattle through the cotton filling, yanking you out of your dream like you’re being pulled out from under water. For a moment, you think you’re home. Really home. Yet, the room is too cold, and you are too alone. Blinking the sand from your eyes, you shove your hand between comforter and mattress and yank out your phone to be met with a flashing screen.

Incoming Call from Captain Jack Sparrow

You hit accept and bring the speaker up to your ear. “Hello?”

“Chip!” Row’s voice purrs on the other end. “What are you up to?”

“Uh…” you pause as you turn to lay on your back, eyes blankly glued to the ceiling. You forgot to turn the heat back on when you got home, and you swear you can almost see your breath. “...relaxing…”

“That’s a first. Hey, I’m stuck at the club, and I’m bored. John wanted to have a quaint evening together but caught up with work stuff. Wanna get dinner or something?” she asks.

You sniff, and the pressure behind your eyes nearly doubles. “I… don’t think I’m feeling up to that tonight, sorry.”

“Oh wow,” Row gawks. Her voice drips with concern, and you hear shuffling on her end. “Are you sick? You sound very… congested.”

“Yeah, I got sent home from work. Must’ve caught a bug from… somewhere.”

Row says something in response, but you can’t hear it. There’s nothing but ringing as you force yourself to sit up and hack up snotty phlegm, trying not to choke on it as it comes up. Acidulous liquid coats your tongue, and you wince. Vile. Why can’t you ever have anything that tastes sweet? Something easier to stomach than an unwanted tongue or blood?

“Chip?”

Row’s voice brings you back to the present — back to your cold apartment with frigid sheets and your pounding headache. There’s no reason for your tears. Maybe it’s from your cold. Maybe it’s because you dreamed of your mom. Or maybe it’s just because you’re sad, and you have been for a while. You’re just not able to hold it back anymore.

“Do you want to spend the night with John and I?” she finishes.

Lips curling in, you try your best to hold back a sob. “Yeah… Yeah, that sounds nice.”

“Lovely. Riley’s driving. We’ll be there soon, okay?”

An attempt is made at making yourself look somewhat presentable, but it’s hard to make art when the canvas is crumbling. Nothing can cure you of the red irritation plaguing your scleras, nor the constant sniffing from congestion. You make do with fresh clothes and a washed face before shoving a few necessities in an overnight bag. Simple. Small. Something that won’t take up much space.

When Row arrives, it’s a very unceremonious occasion. Gentle greetings. A pitiful look. There is no mention of how cold it is, or how the place looks sparsely lived in. She’s beautiful in her coat with pristine hair and flawless makeup. Perfect for a quaint dinner with a friend. You feel bad for being sick; she seemed thrilled to eat with you.

Simon waits for both of you in front of the building in a sleek, black car that you’re surprised he can fit into. Terribly appropriate; something that would look perfect parked in front of John’s club, yet is now being used to transport you, a pathetic, ill woman, to her friend's house as if you’re nothing more than a child.

It isn’t until you find your seat in the back that you realize just how long you were sleeping. Dusk pulls its cimmerian shadow over the sky, obscuring the streets in pale streetlights as Simon pulls into traffic. You’d gotten home around noon. Nearly a whole day wasted with sleep.

Little is said between the three of you as you struggle to stay conscious. The consistent, gentle hum of the car’s engine is better than any lullaby that you can recall. A siren’s song. A gentle hand on your back. Head bobbing and swaying with the turns of the road, you listen to whatever Simon has droning on the radio; some sort of rock station that plays so quietly you almost can’t hear it at all. Every now and then you catch his eyes in the rearview mirror glancing at you like you’ll vanish if he doesn’t keep watch over you.

It seems he’s still taking Row’s request to heart.

As the car approaches the house, Row digs into her bag where she quickly shuffles through a small, periwinkle wallet. She fishes out some cash before handing it to Simon as he parks.

“Here,” she whispers, though you can still hear her. “Get her some medicine, please.”

“Yes ma’am,” he mutters in reply.

Before you know it, you’re tucked into a quiet guest room on the second floor of Row’s home. Heat radiates from the baseboards, yet your muscles tense and ache in a shiver. To combat this, Row has found every spare blanket and duvet she can find and tossed them on top of you like a heaping pile of laundry. At first, she had recommended throwing them in the dryer to help warm them up further, but you reject it. You hate making her go through any more effort than needed on your behalf.

Still, she refuses to leave you as you curl into a ball, face pressed against her side as she sits on top of the covers next to you. Row always smells lovely. Fresh rosewater and lavender. You’re enveloped by her scent as she rubs a hand along your back, but it’s muted. The considerable amount of blankets only allows you to feel the ghost of her touch.

“How long has this been going on?” she asks tenderly.

You shrug. “Day before yesterday, I think.”

She pouts with a huff, hand ceasing movement as she silently chastises you. “And you were still trying to work?”

“I have to,” you mumble against her.

A terrible quiescence soaks the room. Everything hurts, and you want to rest, but you know that won’t come soon. Not with Row’s concern eating her alive — a vicious plague ripping through her heart. You can hear the beasts feasting on her marrow even now.

“I’ve heard you and Riley have been getting close,” Row prompts like she’s about to spill the daily gossip. A change of subject. A way to ease you into what she really wants to talk about. “Visiting him at the club, then?”

The club. Andrei. Spilled pasta in an alleyway. Marco stealing away more parts of you had made you forget about how you ended up in that mess in the first place. The blade of Andrei’s knife glints just as brightly in your mind as it did that night, and you cover your urge to puke with a well timed cough. You wish she wouldn’t bring it up, but it’s a good sign. It means Simon was true to his word.

“Just to deliver food. He kept fixing stuff at my apartment. Had to pay him back,” you explain like a broken record.

Lips stretch over ivory teeth as Row shifts next to you. “That so? Sounds like he likes you.”

“Or maybe he’s just doing the job you assigned him,” you reply bluntly.

Row doesn’t tense at your insinuation, but she does sigh as she settles back against the headboard. “Thought he was better at keeping secrets.”

“I figured it out on my own,” you claim, stuffy voice unable to land the plosives of your consonants.

She chuckles amicably as she looks down at you. Eyes closed, you’re nearly asleep, and you would have been if it weren’t for her conversation.

“Well, you were always the smart one. Still, I won’t retract my statement. Riley’s had a lot of… partners but he never lingers around anyone like he does with you,” she insists.

“Can’t entertain that,” you say. There’s a sour stoicness to your tone; too tired to be annoyed yet yearning for silence. “I’ve got work.”

Another stillness — a suffocating one. Row’s smile has long vanished as her lips press together tartly. There you go, talking about work again. Like you can’t stand to do anything else. Like you’ll die without the money.

“Chip… you know that if you need help you can always ask, right?” she prods carefully.

Help. You think of that word, and a sour cordolium rips through your chest. Asking for such a thing from someone is out of the question. You made that deal with yourself ages ago. Besides, you’ve been doing plenty well all on your own.

“I don’t… I don’t need help, I just miss my mum,” you admit.

You feel the moment when the room freezes. It’s when Row looks down at you, doleness unleashed in her gaze. Bringing up your late mother was a mistake, but she’s all you can think about after that dream. You wonder if you’ll ever have a normal dream of her again — fresh, normal, and void of all blood. A dream where she smiles and it’s not dead.

“I’m sorry,” is all Row can say.

“Me too.”

When Simon returns, you’re fast asleep. Row can hear the sound of his boots on the floor from a mile away; purposefully making his existence known as he opens the door to the only room with the light on. His eyes land on you, form curling into your friend like you’ll fall through the bed without her. He approaches the bed and holds out the bag for Row to take, and the very first thing she finds is every bit of cash she had given him to buy the products in the first place.

Instead of chastising him, she rummages through the rest of the items; NyQuil, sudafed, Vicks, various soups and electrolyte drinks. It’s a variable feast to fight off your cold. Row looks up to poke fun at the man — at this raging chink in his armor — but she loses all words when she sees the way his hand presses against your forehead. He watches you with gentle devotion as your shoulders rise and fall with your breaths, congestion causing you to quietly snore. You do not stir awake, but she watches your brows furrow when he pulls away.

“She’s got a bad fever,” he concludes quietly. “She looks exhausted. Dehydrated.”

“Yeah. She’s been overworking herself too much. Hasn’t been resting or healing like she should,” Row concurs.

Fragile silence breaks as you breathe, airways too clogged for you to sleep peacefully. Simon and Row stare down at you for a moment, each of them considering the circumstance. Her lips press tightly together in thought before she carefully slides away from you, leaving your coiled form. She sets the bag of medicine and supplies on the foot of the bed before facing Simon with crossed arms.

“Can I talk to you before you leave?” she requests.

Simon answers her with a curt nod before they exit the room, lights off and door shut tight behind them. Row’s heart pounds away in her chest as it fights against the tightness of her ribs. It’s an ever constricting cage. Relentless. Vile. She ensures that she’s not facing Simon once they traverse down the stairs and make it to the landing on the bottom floor.

“Chip is… really scaring me,” Row breathes, and she feels her voice crack nearly as bad as her heart. “I’m more than a little concerned or worried now she… she’s always been something of a workaholic, but this is different. It feels like she’s trying to run away from something and she’s just, I don’t know, keeping something buried inside of her. Pushing away any help anyone tries to offer her. I’m terrified she might hurt herself.”

“Hurt herself?” Simon repeats in disbelief. “She done somethin’ like that before?”

“No, not that I know of, it’s just…”

The words die as Row’s lips press tightly together once again, and she finally forces herself to look at Simon. He’s nothing but a stone — this immovable being who won’t be swayed by anything physically or emotionally. She steadies her breath as she wills away the tears welling in her eyes.

“I’m going to tell you this because I trust you,” she says, gaze attempting to harden. It’s a silent vow. A demand that he not repeat any of the words she’s about to speak.

“‘Course,” Simon nods.

Row swallows the guilt in the back of her throat.

“Chip’s parents are dead. They have been for a while. First it was her dad, and then her mom. My dad was the chief working the cases of their deaths. It wasn’t… from natural causes. She holds a lot of guilt and she gets in a bad headspace over it, and I think that’s a bit of what’s happening and… it’s worse than I’ve ever seen it before. And, I don’t know, maybe it just seems worse because she’s sick but… fuck, Simon, the way she talked about her mom just earlier, I swear to god I nearly cried.”

Crisp eyeliner marks the edges of her eyes, yet it smudges as Row banishes the tears from her vision. Still as ever, Simon watches carefully and without judgment as she gathers herself together in order to finish.

“She needs to talk to someone about it but I don’t think she wants it to be me. There are many things I think she would tell me, but there’s no way she’d give me the whole story,” Row concludes.

Confusion clouds Simon’s stern gaze, and he shifts on his feet. “What, you’re thinkin’ she’ll tell me and not you?”

“Yes.” Her reply is speedy and sharp; a warning. No one knows you better than her. “She carries guilt for many things. Some things I know she won’t want to tell me.”

Something is off — Simon can smell the stench of it from a mile away. He knows better than to question Row, as she seems very convinced that this is the true issue at hand, but there’s an uncomfortable trepidation that hangs somewhere in the balance of it all. A picture half developed. The brittle edge of a cliff. It’s the same feeling that afflicted him the night he fought Andrei in the alleyway — a deja vu that screams trouble if he even attempts to entertain it.

“Please,” Row begs. “You don’t have to do anything crazy, I just don’t want her to be alone. Swear to me you won’t let her be alone.”

Another deal. Another oath. Simon has always been a protector, in some way. A tool which one uses to bludgeon. He doesn’t know if he can be gentle. He knows he’s certainly not palatable. But he thinks of your sleeping form in the VIP room after the tussle with Andrei, and the heat of your fever against his hand, and he thinks he’d at least like to try.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he assures her.

Nodding, Row attempts to strengthen her resolve with a deep breath. Frayed nerves still poke out of her skin, completely wired with worry. It sparks and fizzles, yet she still glances back up the stairs, as if she can feel the aura of exhaustion seeping out of the bedroom.

“Thank you,” she says, voice hardly a whisper as she looks back at him. “Truly, I appreciate it.”

“Can’t do everythin’ on your own,” he says.

She scoffs playfully. “Tell Chip that.”

Once the front door locks shut behind Simon and the house is still and quiet, Row sneaks back upstairs. You’re hardly conscious when she gently urges you awake to press cough syrup to your lips, but you don’t complain. You never complain — not when there’s bitter liquid on your tongue; never when you should. Silent. Pliable. Once you’ve swallowed every last drop, you collapse back into bed, body weak and overheated; slick with sweat.

She knows she should leave once your snoring starts back up again, but she can’t. There’s something to relish in how peaceful you are in this moment. Not working yourself to death. Not running from the grief that’s been strangling you since you were a child. For a moment, as you lay there in bed, Row gets to see you as you were when you were a kid. Quiet. Basking in the halcyon atmosphere that preceded the worst day of her life.

Row recalls the movie you watched that night. How you giggled at the terrible graphics and corny writing. She remembers how your face squished against the cushions on the couch as you fell asleep. How her father covered both you and her with blankets before wishing you goodnight. You’ve grown so much since then. A fine woman who should be proud of herself. And she wants to shake you awake. Yank you out of sleep and scream at you that there’s nothing to be forgiven — nothing to punish yourself over. She doesn’t.

Instead, she turns around and leaves, ensuring that the electrolyte drink Simon brought you is on the pillow next to you for when you wake up in the morning.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #mafia!ghost #mafia!141 #f!reader

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barcaatthemoon · 3 months

Text

bad girlfriend || alessia russo x reader ||

you and alessia get in a fight when you confront her about neglecting you.

you were utterly exhausted. it was your team's first practice of the season with your new coach who wanted to see your team reach the wsl. there had been offers to play in teams that had already made it, but it would have put distance in between you and alessia.

a part of you wanted to tell yourself that you didn't want the distance to put strain on your relationship, but you knew that alessia would break up with you before you could even finish telling her where you'd be. she couldn't be bothered to keep your relationship going if you moved away.

"are you fucking kidding me?" alessia grumbled at the sight of you splayed out on the couch. you let out a whine as alessia stomped past you. all you wanted was one day where she wasn't acting like an ass at home.

you had no idea what had gotten into her lately. alessia had been sweet at first, but once you got serious, she stopped caring. the longer that you stayed, the worse she treated you. there were often moments where you stopped and wondered if she just wanted you to break up with her. she'd look like an ass if she broke up with the social media sensation who was trying to get her team promoted.

"did you even get anything done today? the house looks like shit," alessia said. she dropped down onto couch. she pushed your legs away, careful not to sit on them. "it would be nice if i didn't come home to a mess like this all the time."

"it would be nice if you spent some time with me, but we can't all get what we want, now can we?" admittedly, it wasn't the most mature response, but you were sick and tired of being the adult with alessia. not only was she actually older than you, but she was always the perfect gentlewoman whenever other people were around.

"oh i'm so sorry. do you want me to quit playing at arsenal and join your little pipe dream pretend team?" alessia asked you. you clenched your fists at your sides and shot up from the couch. you stormed off towards the bedroom with alessia shouting after you about how immature you were being. all of her little comments died down as soon as she saw you walk out of the bedroom with a packed bag.

"i'll be back for my things tomorrow," you told her. alessia jumped up from the couch and sprinted to stand in front of the door. "alessia, move out of my way please. i need to go."

"no, i don't want you to. come on, this is a stupid fight. i'm sorry, i didn't mean what i said to you. i'll help you clean up and we can watch love island together. just please, don't leave," alessia fell onto her knees in front of you. you felt a bit bad, but you shoved right past her with your bag to leave. you didn't look back that night, you couldn't have without turning yourself right around.

…

"you said what to (y/n)! i should kick your fucking ass right here blondie!" alessia flinched at the sound of katie's voice. it was nothing compared to the glare she was receiving from leah. "are you mental? why would you ever say that it her?"

"i was mad, it just slipped out. i didn't mean it, not at all. i'm such an idiot," alessia cried. she had made it three days without you at home before she completely broke down. alessia didn't know whether or not to count herself lucky that katie and leah had been lingering in the locker room when alessia had her little tantrum.

"you're a dickhead, that's what you are. i don't know (y/n) very well at all, but i know that she's given up a lot to stay in london with you," leah told alessia. "i don't know what the hell is wrong with you, whether it's stress or your fucking ego, but you need to apologize."

"what can i do to get her back?" alessia asked. katie and leah shared a look, one that told alessia all she needed to know. you weren't hers anymore, not after what she had said to you. there was more than that, months of neglect and harsh words building up. alessia would consider herself lucky if you ever agreed to speak with her again.

"i'll be checking on the little chick, and if i heard that you've said anything other than that you're sorry and it was all your fault, i'll shatter your fucking knees," katie threatened. alessia jumped out of the way as katie moved past her, no doubt with her phone out to check on you.

"if she does take you back, don't make this mistake again," leah warned. alessia knew that already, but she still took leah's words to heart. she wanted a second chance, one that she wouldn't let waste for anything.

…

you hated being alone, but you hated living with your sister and her boyfriend even more. martha was great, but nick was an asshole. he got on your nerves like nobody else. you didn't think it was possible, but you almost missed being ignored by alessia over having to sit through nick's constant chatter for another night.

you pushed that thought out of your head as you pulled up to the training facility to see a familiar car in the parking lot. "alessia, what are you doing here?"

"i wanted to speak with you, but i don't know where you're staying," alessia said. she looked nervous, something that you weren't used to seeing on her. "can i start with apologizing because i am so sorry. i'm sorry for all of it. i shouldn't have ignored you for starters, and i shouldn't have said that. i'm sorry that i lied to you too."

"what did you lie about?" you asked her. suddenly, you were afraid that alessia had been hiding some big secret from you and that was why she had been so distant.

"i said that what you were doing with your team was nothing, and it's not. it's important, and i can't wait to play with you in the wsl," alessia said. she reached out to grab your hands, as if that would fix everything.

"alessia, you can't just come here, apologize, and expect us to be okay. do you have any idea how badly you've hurt me?" you asked her.

"i can't imagine what i've done to you. i can't explain why i ignored you, but i won't let it happen again. it's been a week, and i've never felt more miserable. i miss you so much, and i just want you to come back home with me," alessia said. you hated seeing her upset, even after what she had done to you. despite everything, you still loved alessia.

"a week. i'll come home for a week, and we'll see how things go from there. do anything like this again and my first call will be mccabe," you threatened. alessia nodded, already well aware of the things katie planned to do to her if she broke your heart again.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo x reader

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briefalpacashark · 7 months

Text

~The Rally Driver~

Warnings: A bit of swearing. Death. Guns.

Synopsis: You and the 141 get in a car chase. You're the driver.

youtube

Perfect song to listen to while reading.

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You rarely had a mission in the heart of a city. But there you were, in the heart of London hauling ass down a street, the boys hot on your heels. You all tuckered yourself around an alleyway hiding from the array of bullets.

“This is a shit show,” Price grunted as he checked the nick on his arm.

“Yeah no shit,” you chuckled nervously, going to reload only to find you were out of ammo.

“I'm out,” As you chucked the empty magazine to the side, your head snapped up at the sound it made. Your eyes took in what you assumed was a car under a fancy-looking tarp.

“Hold on, I've got an idea,” you announced. The boys barely spared you a glance as you walked up to the car, yanking the cover off. A low, impressed whistle left your lips as you took it in. A 1969 Dodge Charger painted in a sexy navy black sat in front of you. You almost cried as you slammed your elbow into the window, smashing it. Slipping in, you worked a little magic. (Stabbing a small knife into the ignition and turning it). The engin roared to life, gathering the boy's attention.

“Get in bitches!” You called excitedly. Quickly, they piled into the car. Simon in the passenger seat, Price, Gaz and Jonny in the back, left to right in the respective order.

"Seatbelts on," you called.

"Nows not really the time to be worrin about taht love," Jonny chuckled.

"Seat belts save lives. Put them on or I'm turning this car around," you threatened.

"Were not even moving," Jonny grumbled but they all obeyed. As soon as you heard all four clicks you took off. You slammed the gear stick forward and put the pedal to the metal. You gave all the boys whiplash as you tore out of the alleyway.

“She's got a bit more of kick then I though,” you chuckled excitedly, ignoring the boy's desperate need to get there seat belts on. Guessing your position in the car the enemies got off a few shots, the glass from the rear window shattering and running down upon you all. You shoot through the gears, zooming down the street. Gaz let out a strangled scream as his body was pushed into the back of the seat. Now the streets of London weren't necessarily long, they were a maze of old and new architecture. Which meant there were a lot of sharp turns. With expertise you skidded, turned and slipped around every corner with ease, rarely losing the speed you were building up.

“You're crazy!” Jonny yelled.

“Don't worry, crazy people can still drive,” you shoot back. As the group held on for their life, you couldn't help but smile at the thrill driving gave you.

“PEOPLE! PEOPLE! PEOPLE!” Price yelled, pointing to the group of drunken club goers crossing the street.

“Dont fucken back seat drive. I can see them” you yelled, swinging the car to the side, missing the group, and using the sidewalk as your new road. You took a sharp intake of breath when you saw the restaurant that had seating set up on said sidewalk. The road next to you was filled with cars so you couldn't move. You slammed your hand down on the horn, the few occupants quick to scramble out of the way as they saw the car barreling maliciously towards them. The car plowed through the seat tables and food. Simon stared at you as you casually flicked the wipers on, cleaning the window from the wine and food.

“Oh that smells lovely. We should get dinner there next time,” you suggested casually as you returned the car to the actual road.

“TRUCK!” Simon yelled as he spotted a truck pulling out of an alleyway. Jerking your hand break up, you turned quickly, slowing just enough for the corner of the truck to scrape along the driver's side of the car. The screeching sound of metal on metal filled your ears as the side mirror disappeared in the near miss.

“That didn't sound good,” you mumbled, hanging half out of the window to look at the damage.

“GET INSIDE THE FUCKEN CAR!” Gaz yelled.

“Alright, I think everyone just needs to calm down,” you said gently, turning around to face the panicked passengers. As you did so she caught the look of a certain pissed of enemies pursuing you in another car.

“KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE ROAD!” Simon yelled. He looked hilarious, propping his large body the best he could in the corner of the seat. “Hey don't tell me how to drive. Why don't you be useful and use your little toy on our little friends” you asked slowly turning back to the front to return to driving. The boys turned round, spotting your pursuers. Simon threw half his body out the window as he started to fire, and they fired right back. The rest of the boys quickly joined Simon's efforts.

“Does anyone have a map?” you asked casually through the gun fire. Simon cursed as his gun ran out of bullets.

“No, we don't have a fucken map,” Ghost growled as he slipped back into his seat, throwing the gun down. Coming to a roundabout you smoothly drifted the car round Gaz struggling to understand the physics of a car driving sideways.

“Should you even be driving?” Gaz yelled. He had given up returning fire and handed his gun to Jonny. He was much more focused on the danger in the car.

“I don't think so. You know I think there should be a law that if you fail your driving test ten times, then you shouldn't ever get one,” you chuckled, half jokingly.

“YOU FAILED YOUR DRIVING TEST TEN TIMES!?” Gaz screamed just about to pass out from the fear. “Of course not,” you reached back, patting his knee comfortingly.

“It was more like eighteen,” you stated.

“Oh lord help me,” he whispered. The boys grinned at the interaction.

“I'm out,” Price announced. Jonny got off a few more shots before repeating his words. The poor night inhabitants of the town were plunged into confusion at the cars that drove through there streets like rally drivers. A rally driver would be the only way the boys could describe your driving. It scared them shitless. But they had to admit, you were good, really good. You were quickly forming distance with the other car. Ghost reached across you where you usually held your gun.

“Lieutenant, so forward?” you chuckled.

“Gun,” the simple word was meant to explain what he was doing.

“Safe word?” you asked teasingly, making him look up at you with a small glare. A glare that momentarily faltered due to your close proximity. He hated to admit it, but his body flushed in attraction. You pose having one hand on the wheel, the other on the gear stick and the annoying smirk sent his heart racing. You chuckled at what you assumed was an are you serious look. You grabbed his hand and moved it to your lower back, sliding it down to meet the gun you had tucked into the back of your pants. Clearing his throat, he pulled the gun free, returning to the window, firing another shoot.

“Drive straight!” he yelled struggling to keep his balance.

“You shoot straight,” you shoot back but tried your best to steady the car. Steady enough for him to land a hit dead center in the driver's head. To your shock, the passenger kicked the man's body out the door and continued driving.

“Shit,” he hissed, firing off more shots failing to see the fast approaching wall. You did, however. Reaching out, you grabbed onto the first thing your hand landed on. Which just so happened to be his belt buckle. Yanking him back into the car, he narrowly missed decapitation. His eyes snapped down to the grip you had on his belt, your hand pulling the material taunt.

“Close one, lieutenant,” you spared a grin at him, releasing his belt buckle. Simon was surprised, yet not entirely against it. Dare he say, even slightly aroused?

“This place is like a maze,” you mentioned, taking her time to look at the signs.

“You are way too calm for this,” Simon huffed, going to fire again only to find that he was out of bullets. “Shit,” he whispered. Luckily, after another quick turn it seemed like you had lost them.

“Well, there's no point in panicking. Sure he's firing at us but there a terrible shot. Ain't that right boss?’ you asked, glancing back at Price that for a man with great composure looked like he was about to lose his shit.

“Please focus on the road!” Price begged.

“Alright well.I feel like I'm taking a tour through this town. Where am i doing?” you asked.

“Head west,” he ordered. “Alright cool,” you nodded, pausing for a few moments. “Which way is west?” you asked.

“Left!” he snapped. Jokingly, you held up your hands. Holding your thumb and index finger into L shapes.

“SARGENT!” Price snapped.

“Ok ok, sorry!” you whispered back, making a quick left turn, a quick left turn that had them headed in the west direction, a direction that put them directly in line with an all too familiar car. The enemy. They had cut you off.

“Shit,” you whispered. Slamming into the break. The car came to a screeching stop. Almost sent Ghost through the windscreen. The driver in the opposite car gave you a shit-eating grin as his allies poked themselves out of the windows.

“Get down!” You yelled. Everyone did so, including you as you slammed the car into reverse, taking off just as fast as you had before. Gritting your teeth, you prayed for luck as they opened fire. Snapping up, you placed your hand on the back of Simon's head rest and not to toot your own horn, but drove like a boss ass bitch. Backwards. At full speed, weaving and jerking side to side doing your best to dodge the bullets. The chase was back on, with you doing your best to drive backwards. Waving and dodging cars as perfectly as you had done before. There just wasn't any room to turn the car around. And your near miss count was going up with every passing second.

“Oh my god we're gonna die,” Gaz stated simply as he watched you.

“Not today, bud,” you stated. You saw it, you slammed the hand brake up, throwing the car around barely losing any speed as you returned to forward face driving. Your eyes searched for your exit, anything. Then you saw it, A Little bridge in the distance.

“How long can you guys hold your breath?” you asked.

“What?” Jonny asked.

“Answer the fucking question!” You snapped.

“A long fucking time!” Ghost yelled.

“Alright, everyone, windows down seat belts off,” you ordered.

“Um fuck no,” Gaz stated, simply holding tighter onto his life line.

“Do it now!” You snapped.

“Wanna fill us in on your plan?” Price asked.

“We're going for a swim. Everyone brace yourself,” you ordered, cutting the lights off. You took a sharp turn at the building, cutting off the view of the car behind. And in one quick jerk, you threw the car off the side of the walkway. You cut the engine just as the car hit the water under the bridge. The car was quickly submerged as you all clambered out. Well, almost all. You grunted as something caught on your ankle. You assumed it was the seat belt. Your hand reached for your knife as it pulled you deeper and deeper into the depths. Only your knife wasn't there. It was in the car's ignition. You reached for it, trying desperately to rip it out to no avail. Shit. You were running out of air as you struggled to untangle your foot. Only you had no light, and you couldn't figure out how it had snagged itself on you. You felt your body getting tired, panic started to set in. Your limited vision started to fade and your lungs burnt for air. Shit, you thought. As you started to acknowledge your possible death, your body went limp as you fought for the last remained of your consciousness. You didn't want to die. There was still so much you wanted to do. God and the boys would never let you down if this was how you would die. They would tease you shitless in the afterlife. You were about to let it go when a set of hands grabbed your shoulders. They gave you a yank, quickly discovering you were caught on something. Their hands patted you down till they found the culprit slicing the seat belt. They swam you back to the surface, you gasping like a fish out of water at the much needed oxygen. Sighs of relief sounded as you briefly caught a glimpse of the skull mask on the face eof the man who kept you afloat resting your upper back on his shoulder.

Ghost had saved you.

“Fucken hell,” Ghost whispered. You couldn't really tell due to the lack of oxygen but you could have sworn you felt him pull you closer to him, his chin pressing against your head in an awkward hug. Price swam over to you, taking your face into his hand.

“You alright, Sargent?” he asked. After a few more gasps of air, you nodded, pulling a thumbs up.

With deep breaths you all waded in the water waiting as you heard the other car approach. As it drove over the bridge and off into the distance. You had lost them.

“Well, personally, I think that went well,” you said with a cheerful grin. The boys all chuckled as they somewhat relaxed.

“Do you even have a license?” Gaz asked.

“An Australian one, yes,” you nodded.

“But then again, the police officer doing my test was drunk when I drove him home,” You shrugged casually, earning another set of chuckles. Reaching up you hugged Simon arm tightly. “Thank for saving my ass big guy,” you whispered.

“Don't scare me like that again, you hear me?" he grumbled holding you impossibly closer.

"No promises," you stated.

"Hey what was that bout seat belts saving lives again?" he asked as he sawm you to shore. You simply chuckled shaking your head.

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--COD Master List here--

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#141 x reader #141 x you #cod 141 #cod ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #cod #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod modern warfare #Youtube

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